if I believed in God

and I woke up with pieces of a dream


like tiny ballerinas

in cold pink dawn

when aloneness makes a fist

if I knew my hands were empty

if the room filled with violent little pills

and I woke up plastic-sealed

like a magazine

they keep behind the counter

if I woke up in pieces

if I woke up alone

I’d smile and close my eyes


if I believed in God.

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