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And the Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your desire with good things, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. --Isaiah 58:11

I gave it up to God, though I could not

give it up. I mean, I tried to stop,

and I could not. I mean, black flies

roamed my skull, and still,

whatever they'd still, I'd swill.

My heart was a rotting fruit--

and still, I'd--. Pieced together with thin

twine, I walked the desert ranch

road. I could see my wasting bone

blow away as dust through my mouth.

I knew that if I were to fell myself

on a Spanish dagger plant, I'd drain like so

much sand. The gin invisible,

but the sun saw it still, wanted it

for its own. All that was left in me

this morning were fumes. The heavens

beckon; I looked up. The whispered

words to sky: take me please.

And I was lifted, watered,

and home.