this one’s for the soft touch
in me, signs and
I won’t do anything more.

you’re vacillating;
playing scenario and
victim. I am ten inches
taller than I was before
& volcanic,
moving neck up
to a martyrdom
I not only asked for,
but begged for, wept for.
and first, I want to
say I hope it all works.

second, hope is a feckless
drug but I still walk outside
everyday hoping strangers
let me brush their dogs’
fur  even though the air is ill.
and I have not stopped
praying since the fervent need
first took me by the
finest strands,
held me under
& said

look dear,
there’s love.

“hope”