“An-Nafi. It can be whatever you need to help you expand
your heart and life right now.”—Neil Douglas Klotz, The Sufi Book of Life
The 92nd name of God is Wild Card, whatever
blessing or garnishing you need
there for you, the devotional falling
open to that page. A lost lover’s laugh
from a guy half his age who glides by
on a ten speed. Three-fifty stuffed
in the burl of a tree and you see it. Even
the reliably too early garbage truck’s a comfort
the day you wake at four and can’t sleep, worried.
That pen that wrote gold chosen from the lot
at the bridge dedication celebration that gave you
the only thing you’ve ever won—an ice chest with tongs
for serving cocktails—although at ten
you had no idea what it was.
by Jan Carroll
Editor’s Note: This poem’s enjambment and careful imagery offer a precise vision of gratitude to the reader.