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Bless This Mess

This day wants to wear a pink badge and
be naked as the faces women post on Facebook

 honoring women who struggle through a chemo hell
that kills their cancer that takes their breasts 

 that teased a lover's lust that fed babies that
sobbed like the gasp of first light that speaks 

 to a wobbly body as it emerges battered
from the wages of slumber before seven

 from wonky dreams --- holding bird sculpture --
villages waving with alarm -- timid lovers

 learning to dance together while thinking 
about fucking -- even the cakes were delicious 

 without being eaten -- this day breathes in 
second grade and bad jokes -- making me blush 

 for I can feel it comb private recesses behind 
my heart -- already it has found the secrets 

 I keep from myself. Ahimsa, tender day
-- ahimsa, and bless this mess of rising.

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