I wonder
if it counts
as prayer –
what I breathe out,
call out,
when we’re both/and,
when, with my tongue,
I write God
into the sacred lack of space
between
us,
into the almostness,
the now-delight.
God! enfleshed
God! spirited Mover
God! the Father and the Mother and the Child
God! You with your senseless generosity!
Your lavish liberality! You-to-whom-all-flesh-shall
come.