pieces

                              between
                                      the stained glass cross
                                 and the broken metal sailboat
                                      lies my life ...
                                      a  window
                                      a  lookout
                                      a     me.
                                   everything      i am
                                   everything      i own
                                                 rests in state.
                                      a tiny red flag
                                      clings precariously
                                              to the mast
                              i do not weep.
                                      the shattered dream
                                        is buried ... fractured  splinters
                                      tightly lodged
                                      snugly wrapped
                                              in layers of ache ...
                                      too hurt to be held
                                      too deep to be dug
                                      too sad to be sung.
                              and then
                                      the wind
                                              a       snap.
                              pieces of glass
                                begin  to move and push
                              pieces of glass
                                begin  to cut
                                            and
                                              slice
                                                      flesh.
                                      pieces.