CALL ME BELOVED

Look around, take stock.
Count crows feet and smile lines.
Count the missed calls from mom,
six, now, since you blocked her

paper-white, crying shaking cold
in July – the laid out reasons why
looking back like holding a mirror.
Count your breaths, how many days.
Delete six missed call notifications.

Write all of the wretched poems,
get them out. Go ahead, rhyme
heart and apart, write it down
because you can’t crumple up
thoughts – we’ve tried – get up
and look outside. Fireflies glow –

slowly remember calm nowheres
you used to know, they glimmer
inside your chest – lightning bugs
flickering beneath umbrella bows
of the tree out back, rain pours
in steady sheets down the glass,
whispers go to sleep on windows –

Listen. I promise it will all be here
when we wake.