Here I am, choosing May.
Might I be setting myself up for a fall?
May the grass grow
May the tumor in my head shrink
May my hands handle the steak knife
to cut cleanly this raw piece of meat once living

May the rains keep falling
May the homeless ones on my block keep sleeping
May the trees hold onto their leaves
May the streetlights all burn out
May the dark be dark

Here I am May.
Possibly my foot will twist on a staircase
Possibly I’ll get married to a human in green
Possibly my poem will be read outloud to a stranger
Possibly I’ll learn to juggle
Possibly I’ll learn to crochet or sew
Possibly I’ll count all the crows
in the street and on the lines and in the yard.

Maybe