as if i were made
of particle-board,
screw happiness
into me,
o god.
i have
resisted
with my eyes
and hands
the touch
of it,
your most
refulgent
gift.
but it crept in
through my ears and mouth
and vibrates on
a crystal pitch--
your logic is not
my logic, god.
i am held
in the palm
of your hand,
blind,
and you make
me sing,
sing most
anything.