Do you never want to sleep again
on the ground floor because once
a flood rose in the night to pull
whole towns into the sea?
Do you think every time you wince
in that hollow beneath your ribs,
it means you have forgotten how joy
can fill the belly as well as pain?
Do you think only a cascade of hot
tears can melt the hard little chips
that lodge in the unsuspecting
corners of the day?
Do you think, because you sliced one
of two glowing persimmons open only to find
it puckered your tongue, that the other
won’t continue to quietly ripen?
In response to Via Negativa: Believer.