I stand here—

the kitchen counter

an altar

where words come and

prayers in opened hand.

I raise my arms,

eyes squeezed shut

to the teapot’s

reflective chrome,

and make this vow:

Nothing you say

I won’t believe.

You’ve come too far,

fought too many battles,

for me to doubt you now.

I love it here,

preparing to be loved

so well.

—jennifer j. camp