my nightstand is an altar

and in case you haven't noticed

there are four good reasons

for prayer this evening

each no more meaningful than the last.

take your pick

it could be the photo from your dashboard

that you gave me late one morning

--I've now tucked it inside a book on stars and all their meanings

A book which I've never read

though I feel more inclined, so that I can find the picture once again.

Or maybe it's the lighter that I couldn't hold straight

when I thought I couldn't face my life from any angle

It's the same one you took from my hands to light your smokes

the time you told me what I need to know

about fate and other vices.

It could even be a prayer for all that’s missing

maybe the outline formed by dust from the cup you used to keep here

so regularly that even the furniture and the air mourn it’s loss.

Every change of gone is noticed by it’s offer of something up to time or innocence.

This is a prayer for the noticing even if it’s loss.

The fourth and final prayer could be a simple little cry

a sentence between you and I that means we’re holy.

It could be a whisper or a gaze

something explaining all the ways this nightstand holds us in congregation

amongst our books and all their stories

lampshades and open drawers

that say that we lived, at least today