DESK WORK, AFTER HEARING BAD NEWS
I could use the stapler to staple
my eyes shut. That hurt would help
me cope with the sunlit young woman,
bursting at her seams, her angel
face wrecked in an accident
prompted by a party. The squeal
before the thud, the squeal before
the thud is all she remembers
in these early days of after.
Is her loss just surface or something
deeper? The mirror sets the table
for the rest of our lives, but others
see us more than we will ever see
ourselves. Tonight, we dine on shards.