CALL ME BELOVED

The priests were convinced – told us it was god
who built this world bespoke, bare hands and all –
six days to decide that yes, our hearts should beat
loudly enough at night for lovers to hear, breaths a
perfect fragile rhythm – it was god who made it so?
And as I whisper my prayers into that silent dark
I know the real miracle is that I can stitch myself
to this moment; surely you feel my fingertips as I
sew myself into your warmth, my hands weaving
back and forth, our breaths in and out, that soft
ocean crash of our embrace; every tear a blessing
as I weep for the impossible gift of each next beat –
if you listened to my shaking prayers, I’m thankful –
thanking god, thanking the quiet corners of a hotel,
thankful this happened at all, this happened at all