When Earth breathes
in your face,
with all the fragrances
of the night,
you become aware of your body,
and allow it

These words
are scattered raindrops
in a puddle,
and this Earth in Space
is a memory

Yesterday
I suddenly gave myself permisson
for a disaster,
but the catastrophe looked the other way,
found something more apt

Later
a telephone voice
opened a habitat in my head

I listened
I breathed
I drank

I was restored
out of weightlessness
like one of Joni Mitchell's skaters
getting off Central Park's Wollman Rink