Prayer

In order for this to happen, if it is to take, 
I must imagine grafting time and sense upon your life
like propagating plectranthus verticillatus—swedish ivy–
the way the south is swallowed up 
by kudzu vines and yet continues, bridging ghost 
and instrument. Pack a bag, your passport, leave
for catatonia. It is a solemn state. The guards are lax. 
You have to see the darkened tunnel, 
morning mass, malign the knowing traveler, come here
empty, come with me. I can show you where I drove 
the truck into a wall on Christmas morning or how many
names and hours can be spent beside the lucky baths
where it is said that Thomas came to heal 
his mind, shocked from contact with the hallow void
on Christ’s side, Blessed are those, they say, 
All through the night, they sing, as if to bear 
your wounds to anyone could make them go away.

by Cody Ross Romero