That’s the drug – a draft of this nectar
can own me into the next life for an accolade
you barely recall.
Quiet my fears with the smile and nod
I awaited endlessly at war zone dinner tables, parentless
performances and lonely surgeries.
and it’s ok not to have been born a son,
to be funny, a tree climber and never a prom queen
to get migraines.
and I could weep, run,
dance, spread my arms to this fast warming world
in joy, terror and love.