How to Remain a Prayer

Lexi Kent-Monning

“As soon as the attention ceases, the prayer ceases.” - Giancarlo DiTrapano, “How to Become a Prayer”

And everything I do from now on is a prayer for you.
No, not a prayer for you; a prayer to you.

Bestow upon me:
An eye for marble statues. An ear for the right song at the right moment. One more cigarette in the pack I thought was empty. Navigational mistakes that lead to meeting my own Giuseppe. A heart with mercy and edits with none.

These are my offerings to you:
Pronouncing your name differently depending on who’s around. Ending everything I say out loud with a raspy giggle. Eventually learning how to uncork a wine bottle without a corkscrew. Waving at sheep for good luck. Saying “um” like “om,” like I’m interjecting sentences into constant prayers. Cold swims first thing in the morning. The ricotta pastries from down the hill second thing in the morning. Dallas Winston on a silver platter. Riding on the back of a Vespa. The wherewithal to notice the view from a grocery store parking lot. Occasionally falling asleep still wearing my jeans. Repetition only when it serves a purpose. Remembering that the purpose can be style over story. Rufus Wainwright hitting that one note in “Minuit, Chrétiens.” Waddling bulldogs with crooked teeth. Naming my future characters and my future dogs carefully, while I hear your voice telling me nomen est omen. Jewelry made of fangs, castles, and saints. Shearling jackets that outlast me. Throwing my phone in the ocean. Surviving the month of uncertainty following a haircut. Knowing the exact right expression to make when someone is taking my photo. Using a curling iron for special occasions because you told me in a dream after you died that your confidence came from your curls. Drawing one of your favorite statues, rusty face and all, on my arm as your crucifix.

Your death, my life.