Granted

For three years I kept it quiet —

not a prayer exactly, I don't pray,

but the same thought carried room to room

like a glass that's too full to put down.

Then the phone rang and the answer was yes.

I said thank you, twice,

the second time to fill the air,

and hung up.

Stood in the kitchen.

The refrigerator running.

The window going dark the way it does

in November, slow, before you notice.

I had wanted this so long

I'd forgotten what wanting it felt like —

what I thought I was going to become

when it finally happened.

The coat didn't fit.

That's the only way I can say it —

I put on the thing I'd been waiting for

and it was the right coat,

made correctly,

just made for someone

I'd been a few years back.

I said thank you again, out loud, to no one.

The refrigerator kept running.

The window was all the way dark.