This is the way I don’t know anything:
I add the same column of numbers
over and over, I listen to songs
about the old sea, startle to find
myself rooting around in the cupboards.
What are you looking for? I ask,
and I don’t know. Well, what
might not be wrong? I ask. Maybe
knitting, maybe walking to the library.
This is the way I walk to the library:
in a circle there and back, taking
steps. Threading the bead
of walking to the library onto
the circlet of my day. The more
beads you thread onto a bracelet,
the bigger it gets, too many
and it slides right off, the way
my days get by me and by me
and still I don’t know
how to figure out what it is
I need.
This is how I talk to God about it all:
a little too fast, a little too wild—
daily bread—daily—okay—okay