How to Pray

I can’t trim gristle
off fatty meat
and pray at the same time,

but I can remember
my father paring apples,
the peel
           falling away
like spiral,
           origami birds.

I can’t hold my cock
in my hands
and pray at the same time,

but I can remember holding hands
with my one true love,
strangers taking our photo
to put in frames
           they place on their mantels.

I can’t prove I am right
and pray at the same time.

I can’t rage against the beasts
and pray at the same time.

But I can remember what I’m grateful for.

Yet prayers often begin
remembering what not to do.