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