Do not say the first thing first
Or the last thing last
Do not read the book in order
Do not order yourself not to cry
Take the unordinary and claim it extraordinary
Take the take the fabric and rip it until the holes are wider
Than the holes in your circumstance
Or the holes in your heart

Put down the gun and bandage the wound
That was made without firing a shot
Do not shoot the extraordinary thing
Pick it up and tuck it lovingly in your pocket
Or in your brassiere
Sew the heart up without anesthesia
Wind thread around it tightly
And say out loud the last words you would ever say
Under ordinary circumstance
Do not start at the beginning
Do not rip the book and cry over the pages

Bandage the book
Put down the wound
Read the gun
Claim the heart
Sew the pocket
Wind the rip
Fire the cry
Tuck the words
Shoot the thing