A LITTLE BROKEN

the winter sky 

sags and sways and swells

before unbuttoning its 

tweed-smoke belly 

to reveal boorish gray 

bristles and the wiry 

wrinkles of this

our circling history

once open

out flies and spins and falls

an exodus of small 

silent sequin angels

of water and vapor and dust 

sewn into delicate skirts 

of satin and silk and tulle

pulled into polyester 

tights, frothy sleeves 

and coarse wedding veils

in the morning 

boots/sand/soot/shovels

batter the white

while trucks with salt

(sucked from the sea)

scatter the white

piling and collecting

no longer left to meandering

crackling/splitting/melting 

all the girls into lingering puddles 

of silt and steam and ice

when they rise, they rise 

from slippery quarry stones

blooming meadows

wide maples

moss and mountains

from narrow roads

oak bark folds

gutters, pelt, and pine

from miles of sidewalk

public garden plots and 

abandoned coal mines

from oily alleyways

cold rivers and lonesome valleys

they rise and rise 

as they have since they first rose 

and filled the sky 

with white velvet pedals

i was born 

fragile/pink/wild/ugly

still I keep pretending

to be pretty

while the sun warms me

burns and blinds me

and the sky bathes me

of my insincerity

perhaps i am

as unique as the pressed 

tear of a cloud

while too a person 

(just another person)

in this incalculable scattering crowd 

fluid/solid/air/hair/white/muddy

painted and covered

plucked and brushed

still meeting my complexity 

with earnest curiosity

i want to be

brave and naked

settled and in flight

falling and melting

while stitching my wounds right 

and tight with a smart intention 

and a spontaneous vulnerability

and i want to remember 

that what we hide

is what others seek 

and what others seek

is to know 

that they are not alone

that yes, we are all 

a little broken