The closet door slides off its hinges And snaps an antique rice bowl in half. The small list of things I understand Doubles. For years I thought If the body were smaller, there'd be less To understand. If a glass splinters, its area increases, Amazed. But what unity in that single, adamant crack.
Echoes slide across the floor like teeth.
There is a grief that splinters us, Our most lovely parts. We wrap Our bones in cloth and paint the edges Like the sun. We are brilliant. The crowd is amazed. Last month, There was comfort in placing the hand Against a rock.