My Incoherent Alphabet 

Laura Van Prooyen

I sit before the page and begin a prayer.
The incoherent alphabet I spin is prayer.

Batter my heart three person’ed God reels
through my head, therein my prayer.

I test my daughter’s blood at night.  Dark
drops rush through her skin, like prayer.

My mother urges me to read the Bible 
to my girls.  I read Grimm, say a prayer.

This warning from my love:  Don’t drink.
Keep your pants on
.  I mix my gin with prayer. 

My girl just now understands her disease
has no cure; I’m closer to chagrin than prayer.

Here I am, asking for help again.  Lord,
your patience must be wearing thin as prayer.