GRACE

Tonight I am a willful prodigal

slurping the pig slop with

relish, deliberate. Beautifully brazen.

tonight my tongue rests,

all dialogue impressed under

my colorful re-tellings, silencing even,

my bent toward prattled repentance.

Tonight I will sleep well

as I used to sleep, in God’s Palm.

Nobody told me about this loophole, I’ve just

always known: it is open, regardless.

A mountainous flesh-space

to jump up and down on, slightly squishy.

The crevice between the thumb and the

soft underside is my preference.

There are many of us here, but I will find

a quiet spot

I will settle in, unseen by the ones who have

all of the answers.