The slate black sky. The middle step
of the back porch. And long ago
my mother’s necklace, the beads
rolling north and south. Broken
the rose stem, water into drops, glass
knobs on the bedroom door. Last summer’s
pot of parsley and mint, white roots
shooting like streamers through the cracks.
Years ago the cat’s tail, the bird bath,
the car hood’s rusted latch. Broken
little finger on my right hand at birth—
I was pulled out too fast. What hasn’t
been rent, divided, split? Broken
the days into nights, the night sky
into stars, the stars into patterns
I make up as I trace them
with a broken-off blade
of grass. Possible, unthinkable,
the cricket’s tiny back as I lie
on the lawn in the dark, my heart
a blue cup fallen from someone’s hands.
Isn’t that beautiful? Sad, but beautiful. It sort of reminds me of some of Claudia Emerson’s early Late Wife stuff (please check her out too, because she’s awesome!). Also, considering she’s a Pulitzer winner, Dorianne Laux will hopefully be flattered by the comparison.
Anyway, I get this fun daily poem and, a while back, What’s Broken popped into my inbox. And I read it, and it was beautiful. So now I’m sharing it with all you lovely people.