I’ve been writing lots of prose and missing 
linebreaks, the way they have of making words
swagger and strut like runway models or
stagger like love-drunk college kids in clubs
that I couldn’t get into, too old and
plain and prosaic like a cloud shaped like
a cloud, cumulonimbus, hovering
above an outdoor wedding. Have a heart
the bride says to the sky, a form of poem,
a prayer to the winds that redirect us.