The deaf,
they can’t hear my teeth
chatter like rocks in garbage cans.
For them,
I pray.

The blind,
they can’t see
me catch on fire,
clutching a match under my toes.
For them,
I pray.

The broken,
they won’t let me touch
their heads of hair
spun round the skull;
spider webs for me to graze.
For them,
I pray.

The tired
and the poor,
with you I rest my worldly wander,
my tired arms and legs I made splinter.
Let them hang like fire escapes against
the building sides.

And when we go to  sleep because we are hungry, in piles like old jackets,
I will not pray.
I will not sacrifice. I will huddle them
in masses.
So I can watch them all breathing
and in our dreams that will be free.