Gladness for quiet eyes. Gladness for wind that bows to meet
the grass, for grass reaching out to meet the wind.

Gladness for the early-morning cold’s sting beneath my fingernails, for light
that filters through my windows in its slow roll, for the slow retreat
of summer’s chewed-up heat. Gladness for the angular passage

of a beautiful man’s jaw. Gladness for the way a spine can unravel
after a hard day and release the heartbreak that wove its way

through my vertebrae. Gladness through the shattered glass
lodged in the ball of my left foot. Through the sharp ridges
that scrape against my nerves after a full-fledged freak out.

Gladness for the sake of gladness. This is what I know. The gasping breath
of gladness as I swallow whatever’s left of its premium passage

across the fading afternoon. The needle and shift of it
when something jabs into my ribcage. The gladness that fills up
my open mouth as I look for you beyond the cliffs and clouds.

—Stephanie Kartolopoulos

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