“she’s f r a c t u r i n g”

Poems like unread letters
Litter the floor in crumpled heaps
Or is that me

Voicelessly screaming in
-to changeless, whipping wind
She’s praying on the mountaintop again

Sunset tears like glittering waste,
Garbage-pity all over her face

Not for lack of candidates
Nor that of gratitude and grace—

How many spells will she speak,
Promises will she keep,
Collapses when she gets weak

Poems will she read
To remind her of me?

“she’s f r a c t u r i n g”

-bb
10.7.24