Broken Mosaic Heartfelt Wonders

There comes a great sound.

Catastrophic.

Maybe.

Of glass shattering.

Slowly

with my fingers

Carefully,

and gently,

I dance the shards

across gritty sometimes washed floors.

I dance them

until they sing for me

until they beat for me-

until I am no longer anticipating

that the pieces will prick.

will cut.

will end.

I make a new dance song

out of the beautiful pieces

of my heart

flopping,

and shattered on the kitchen floor.

These romantic notions

make me self-aware,

like a woman painting china cups

or the damsel in distress

or a fifties housewife

who only has the cat to talk to.

I see myself:

this woman with her heart

leaking

and stapled

on her sleeve.

I will chew it.

Masticate it.

And I will spit it out

at the world.

It is my sustenance.

Because this morning

I fell in love with a woman

all over the way she kissed her own lips

I heard the raw coffee grounded croon

of a stranger

I grinned at a grinning dog

And yes.

He did.

He did grin back.

And

this morning

the world graffitied itself

at my doorstep

in dog shit

in curses

in laughter

in vibrations

in the rarest flocks of the bluest jays.

I will never

ask for sinew strings

or artificial tinsel wrapping papers

to snake their way around my beatings.

Around my shattered heart strings.

Because

this morning

Odors crawled in to my nostrils

Beings - and people

attached to my retinas

And finally

After life was done

pummeling me over the head,

I stared down at the pieces:

Broken mosaic heartfelt wonders

And I exhaled.

wept.

And sighed,

"this is life".