I’m letting my parents off
the hook. I’m thinking about pants,
curled up on the floor. I’ve forgiven
everyone and everything. I forgive you,
alarm clock. And you, night light, flickering
in the corner. I forgive the machine
that imitates crickets so I can sleep. I’m floating
on forgiveness. This morning, my pants
seem more important to me, like dark tunnels
my feet must travel. I forgive you, tunnels,
darkness. Feet, if you get
lost along the way and I never
see you again, I’ll remember your wiggling
toes. I’ll still look down and
feel like I’m standing. Today,

I’m going to be ecstatic. I’m going to run
out of my house and yell, Love me! and, There’s God!
He’s been here all along! I will believe
this is true. I will believe in Buddha and Mohammed and
Satan. I will believe in pants. I will wear them
like wings for my legs. I will believe in the flame;
who cares if I burn? I’m willing to be
smoke, rising and twirling, nothing but a scent
you sometimes catch and say, Ah, Halloween;
when I was a child, I wore a mask.