I've rarely known physical violence.
But I’ve known the thing that lurks in the eyes of five men drinking beer in a garage.
Their guns strapped to their hips.
Hands tracing it like any innuendo.
I've seen guns, never seen a body.
I've shot a gun, never at something that was human.
Still, it's an intimate history.
Dispatches from souls beaten in bone.

And my prayer
Is that I keep not
Knowing when I am going

to die i am blessed each day thinking I am going to make it to the
sunset thinking each day thinking that this day has changed thinking I
am something new each day

Look, I've known warmth
That means so
Much more than
Heat. I've kissed someone
I thought might die
That day. I held their hand
Right before
They walked through a white door
In my house.

and and and and
…

And my prayer is that I will kiss the skin
between her fingers each morning each
morning finding something new.

And my prayer
Is that I can see
The sun again
Sun rising into
A sky not so violent
Afterall.

And my prayer
Is that I do this
With her do
Something that
We call
Life.

Tyler St. Amant is a poet working and living between LA and NYC.