Hail

April in Ohio and it’s hailing
as if to remind me how much I do not know.

Hail Mary, I can’t believe that dread
is what I was put on this Earth for

but it bleeds through me and stains my
sheets like blood through a cheap tampon.

Forgive me, mother, if I’m humorless:
the scholars say hope is a discipline

and the world, God, this world
is so damn unserious.

Fine. I’ll cary an umbrella.
I’ll count my blessings.
I’ll greet the dawn with open hands.