When I knew I lost it all
when I came apart
like a loose rosary
on a hospital floor,
I had a vision of his hand,
my lover’s hand, going
down my spine, his
smile entered me,
no Christ, no angel,
just flesh and blood
trembling in the morning
light. All I could think
of, on this floor, was
clear water running
down my hair and
soap in place of dry blood,
no matter if it meant
vanishing twice before
reaching that minuscule
bathroom. That’s where
I had this vision,
between the bed
and the bathroom door,
lying half-naked,
with no other thought
than this, to wash my hair,
his hand against the Sky,
and I shivered
like water.
No Christ, no angel came
when they took away
my dignity, I was shocked
by my lover’s hand
writing “I’ve neglected you”
in the small of my back.
And no matter if he
took away my reason
before the world did,
or if he could take more,
I finally reached
the bathroom
and slowly washed
my hair, his hand
sustaining me.