My body dreams tender pink sweet potatoes with a sweet apple sauce on the side of my heart. Oh lord I’m so glad I exist. I can’t believe that I have a new big life. Every day is going to be a good thing. I’m so glad you are home. I’m so glad you are doing well and I’m feeling better now but I need you to know that I can’t sleep these days and I can’t write. So I’m up all night trying to stick the brightest star on the tip of my tongue. This is my soft apocalypse with one breath I become. And another I shrink into sweet milk at the bottom of the cereal bowl. For a moment I am a shiny ball of light washing dishes in the morning and getting back into bed where my body becomes soft bread and green beans. I nourish my heart with a spell that forgives. That says thank you sweet sick body for all this sweet time.