From The Monastery of Work and Love

If you believe nothing is always what’s left
after a while, as I did,
If you believe you have this collection
of ungiven gifts, as I do (right here
behind the silence and the averted eyes)
If you believe an afternoon can collapse
into strange privacies, which it has-
how in your backyard, for example,
the shyness of flowers can be suddenly
overwhelming, and in the distance
the clear goddamn of thunder
personal, like a voice
If you believe there’s no correct response
to death, as I do,
If you believe that in grief there are
small corners of joy (where I have sat
making plans)
If your body sometimes is a light switch
in a house of insomniacs,
If you can feel yourself straining
to be yourself every waking minute,
If, as I am, you are almost smiling …