Size / / /
Content warning:
Sweep me up
with the dust on the floor,
my broken bones,
the dirt, the shards of glass.
Bury it all in a cardboard box,
swaddled in old newsprint
and hope
that in the small hours, you do not hear
clank-crash-smash
from the midden, on the move,
seeking—like the mirror,
like the shadows, like I did.