What Is Left

It is only a small fear that burrows into the marrow of my bones

small like a black hole or the splinter in my heart

Seeking shelter or maybe sustenance, this parasite

suckles at loss and wanders through my body an orphan

To say the words in the dark that I cannot say in the light:

I am finished

What this means is that the chinaware of my heart has stopped

collecting dust and has shattered and rains on me wherever I go

Disregard the blood, it’s just a part of the process now

in fact, if you could consider it the red pen edits on this page
you might not find it so alarming.

The bones of my eyes are salt-sanded and fine.
They wait for you to excavate them.

They hold a meaning in their hollows, like a song in a flute,
like a message in a bottle.

This morning, breath rising through the thin air of winter’s sigh

I walked by a thousand smiles and every single one shook my heart

I swear the salt and ice beneath my feet whispered your name.

I will live again, but you won’t recognize me.

And maybe that will be our salvation.