Those who do not carry crosses carry
umbrellas. It’s a miracle, this water
contains electrolytes, promises
to restore my balance. It is stupid
to text your ex and blame her for
your nightmares. I’m happy you called.
It’s a comfort, the same man continuing
to die on the same day every year.
On my street there is no procession,
just a knife sharpening truck with a bell.
The Italian girl crying downstairs gives
me permission to need. It’s too much,
the same man continuing to be born
on the same day every year.
Sometimes you cut someone you love
from your life and it’s like refolding
a paper snowflake. Or it’s not.
I listen for the little girl downstairs.