How to Get to My House from the Sky

I started praying in questions.

Last week I asked how to find myself,

the next day a stenographer was assigned keeper of my thoughts.

She wrote my insecurities on grass

and typed everything I love into cement.

I can’t remember why I don’t spend most of my time dancing,

my boyfriend cut the lawn this morning.

She said everything I fear is true when read backwards,

my mirrors are filled with reasons why I will be loved.

After she painted my daily prayers on kites,

I started floating on days that would have brought my forehead to the floor.

Before leaving she tipped my chin toward the sky

and said the answers are looking for questions