She’s all down here, all up there
in a heaven where they don’t wear white, but red
and don’t have it all together
and we love tension
because it refines
and that’s fine with me
as we pray for fortitude from the gurgle inside
and the pride that bubbles over
into the glass blown gods of creativity
reflecting second thoughts and shadows of fear in our minds’ eye
of what freedom from our common sense might have rung in our ears–
For all I have now are eyes and ears(–letters and sounds).