I shot a nail gun the other day
for the first time.
Maybe I wasn’t doing it wrong after all.
Maybe I just
hit some studs.

Feeling a bit
homesick,
or lovesick,
or I-don’t-know-which-kind-of-sick,
but I’m sad,
I split some peas over the stove.
Poured left-over sweet tea
and cuddled up in a bed I made for me;
Mattress pad on hard wood.

I am thankful for these things -
The acceptance and peace
that accompany the melancholy.
Miracles in dim light.
Carefully,
my eyes adjust to worm’s sight.

Maybe, after all, I didn’t fire duds.
Perhaps when I shot the nail gun
the other day
I hit studs.