price of vacancies

Erin Han

i bite the sigh and swallow it,
then pull it back out to slide it into an envelope,
empty of cash, of payment for prayers.

as the offering dish comes around 
i stare with droopy eyes and an even droopier smile
at the bowl of chipping metal cradling packets of cash —

heavy sums for light dreams, and loose coins —
light bribes for heavy pleas of broken english, 
incorrect spellings, and dying ballpoint pen.

perhaps the bowl was chipped by the sharp edges 
of hardened dreams, stilled into dull amber. perhaps one 
of these was my own from years ago — a surrendered dream

keeping flight as a sigh. a captured sigh keeping motion 
as a scribble — an unsightly jumble of ‘please’s and ‘fix’s,
a petition for grandpa’s cancer, a case for my insomnia.

alright then — 

as much as sleep loosens its dotted-lined embrace around me; 
as much as grandpa’s invisible ghost roams the condo; and
as much as the sigh left my throat parched and wanting,
i’ll pay.