When She Asked Me About Prayer

I don't know, but maybe
it has something to do
with sitting on the roof
and watching what's left

of the lunar eclipse while
crickets sing silence
into ecstatic buzz
and joy spills into my cells

till the idea of self washes away.
Or, when I'm shucked by loss.
The self in tatters. Raw.
Naked. Unable to know.

Utterly flayed. Then.
That's when I pray.