beyond repair?
If I got to the floor on my hands and knees I’d see 273 pieces
and that wouldn’t even be all of them
I could find a dust pan and sweep
them together
At least they’d be together
the ones I could recover anyway
⊹
Inevitably some would stay lost
forever,
to the cavern beneath the fridge, the cracks between the tiles, and to a size unrendered by naked eyes
Shards would surely be seized by wiry broom bristles
and wanderlust pieces would roam to the living room
where I wouldn’t think to look until days later
when I’d step to pierce flesh
and be reminded of all that had shattered.
⊹
But I could try.
⊹
I could spread the dusty mosaic across the dining table
and put my plans on hold
to sink into this impossible puzzle
I’d be matchmaker and the superglue my cupid
⊹
Edges sharper than anticipated
A torn paper towel wraps my wounded finger and I hold him tightly
The places you can feel a heart beat
⊹
There are fragments in me now
It would never be whole again
and I’d be forever changed
⊹
Would it be worth it? My time and my attention. My patience and my bloodshed.
⊹
I wonder all this
as I stand paralyzed
before this mess on my kitchen floor.
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