Was Jesus materializing inside a locked room
a ‘miracle’ of probability?
Every thing is almost really nothing
and yet there are collisions.
So the roiling emptiness I contain
corresponds to something real!
Affirming. But what I cannot bear, then,
is that all this stuff we call beauty is mask.
We may see splendor atop all bare space,
but impact is no intimacy.
I used to think a green room
was where jealous people went
for a time-out.
You could slay some dragons, travel
time, sleep with a prince, skydive, save the world,
whatever it took for you to learn to want the life you have.