How One Accepts (What Is Given)

I lose one night in ten

to insomnia and sardonic memory,

car alarms, a siren’s dark motives.

I mark those times with music videos, old magazines,

the muted play of Howlin’ Wolf and Hank Williams.

I replay the middle third of my favorite movie,

reconsider every action and adult reaction.

I walk townhouse blocks,

strike matches on random corners,

case the long caravans of diesel rigs, military convoys.

I have witnessed the rolling stop of paramedics and patrol cars,

the hurried, yellow stretch of crime scene tape.

In the convergence of comet and lunar eclipse

I acknowledge what has been received.