I search for words
a frantic hand in the sand.
Sand slipping silently through the window
and down the hall
and out the door.
Uncovering the carpet, poor
cat and lampshade
crooked and destroyed.
Nothing to be found
my leg has shattered
I can't feel it
calf shards sit sharp side up.
poker cards on the floor
tank top slipping
off my shoulder
down my arm
rolls blood
and mud;
this stuff feels like bugs.
I keep smearing,
clearing the wreckage,  
forgetting your package
as I pass it in the hall.