Hand over palm of other hand,
no one sits
like this anymore. But I
do it because I
want to invoke a god 

to this dance
I watch, wondering if
it’s being done right. Because I
need a divine
answer to this mortal question: 

Is it ever done right? 

I wonder what happens if
my heart stops racing
long enough. There’s a girl
who was born yesterday—
and hers is beating just right.