The other day I tried to clap myself into being.
Two clay pieces face each other across the field.
Trees know they exist because they drink and die.
Two fire extinguishers look over the flames and fall in love.
A hand reaches up. She is learning to tread the water.
The table, this table, has more desires than I do.
I'm supposed to learn to be afraid along with everyone else.
Sometimes the ground doesn't push back against my feet.
The cup of hot chocolate says trust me, what nourishes you is here.
Here is two feet from your face. Here, an anchor, a string, a boat.
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