If only nothing
was missing.
if only
nothing went wrong.
If only
this longing
had edges,
or at least
corners you could hold,
or perhaps
fold in half-
circles,
or tear
up, or turn
over—then
you could let
go of this
urge
to be
astonished
and zero-
in instead on
those numberless
petitions
to make yourself,
first
and foremost, just
available.
