Broken

10 Nov

cracked_glass man on knees

Between us, on a tabletop of glass, a working hand
becomes a hammer.  Blood does not spill, it boils.  

Shards lament the ways we will not mend, and how
the heart, like a fractal, repeats a pattern of breaks

and splits when magnified.  My heart shoves blood
along a crooked line until I heed the rattle-crack

and attend the bang of anger.  The embittered rackets
rise until the broken pieces lay at rest between us.
 
 

 

 

 

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2 Responses to “Broken”

  1. Jill Eells September 30, 2009 at 9:17 am #

    Hey love, I really like this one. The picture you chose is a great visual. I like the blood boiling line.

  2. thunderbeard September 30, 2009 at 7:52 pm #

    The picture looks like it was drawn for this. Or is it acupuncture gone horribly wrong.
    This poem makes me tense when I read it. But ending it with rest between us is great. I feel it.

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