picking up pieces: a poem

Before you pick up those pieces
Stop.

Sit down with them.
Hold them.

Touch the edges
rough
ragged
dusty

Like they aren’t broken at all.

Examine them
shiny and dull
smooth and sharp

Like they aren’t broken at all.

Before you sweep them up
And throw them out
And tell the children to watch their step
And forget them

See the shape they make in the
sprawl
a solar system in the floor
life on each planet piece:
the big bang

theory: they aren’t broken at all.

 

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