Blankness

I bless the blankness--its glow, its yes.
I gaze into space; it erases this mess.
I love the losing, the pattern of holes
that opens my once-solid body like lace,
revealing the lights that inhabit my face.
I'm ripping apart the dark, heavy roles
that someone has spun from old, bad wool
and slung like a habit across a bright fool.