Look, if you are in the car honking

reminders at your children,

if there is cat puke on the carpet

and it is the worst shade of brown,

if you cannot remember why

a particular extremity aches,

and if the clouds have parted

but the sun isn’t really out (yet),

I hope the warmth returns.

For me, it is not the poem, exactly,

but the knowledge that I can

make it. I have it in me, somewhere

to say, oh, this world right here

is beautiful. There is nothing between

me and it.