some nights i lose sight of magic.
instead, seek out cuts of ordinary to wish into
find myself holding teacups
vases
broken lockets
to my lips
take them with me to the back door
to the patch of dahlias by the highway
to the dusty edge of the city limits
feel the kingdom of a silent, starry, mortal sky
press into the last few fissures
and whisper
please tell me i can get through this.
