My memories come back
like a jigsaw puzzle
with a picture of—
And if I could do it,
I would, but—
All I see in the picture
is how broken I am.
How I left pieces in Romania,
had them stolen in Ohio,
ripped away in Japan,
and set on fire in Texas
with the southern sun
staring down on a desert Coyote
and the Coyote eyeing me
like a piece of fresh meat
So all I have are the outer pieces
held together by one light
emitting a yellow glow
above a stove.