My friend explains to me that no one says
"Stretch me out between the tracks
of direction in my life, Lord"
as she pays the bill and goes back to work,
and I don’t know why she says that but
on my walk home I see a duck on the lawn
and cannot tell if it is dead or alive—
the crook of its neck so unnatural and still.

The following week, as I drive nowhere,
I see a rolled sheet on the freeway and
cannot tell if it is a crime scene corpse
or simply poorly placed laundry, and
that night, after too much time in the tub,
I step out into a spinning bathroom
Naked, with no towels hanging nearby,
and wonder if the laundry was mine.

Stretched out on a bed bigger than my body,
Today I watched videos about deep space.
And when they say something about
being out of orbit and lost in the interim
I realize I have forgotten how to pray.