She is broken pottery. Shattered and repaired again and Again and again and— It’s foolishly hopeful, of course. The yellowing globs of glue Do nothing to hide the number of times She has been utterly destroyed And—somehow—pasted back Together. I inspect her closer and In the glue-filled gaps I find A different girl. One made of stardust and light Near-forgotten melodies and the laughter Of friends and glowing molten gold. She smiles a broken grin at me, And tucks this new memory away Into some empty hole somewhere. I see her now, and know That I was wrong.
As published in the Fall 2018 Issue of Ramifications Art & Literary Magazine
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