into pieces. Every man
that held the chisel chipped
a little. A speck, a flake; it’s
snowing cake. A forest of crumbs
lies on my rug.

Day Breaks
too. The sun cracks open
as an egg on the morning
dew. My head is scrambled. My face,
toast. It’s raining in my kitchen. I can’t
stay afloat.

Waves break
on rocks. You run a ground,
bound to sink. In a blink your life
flashes as lightening. Tightening your grip,
only to slip into the abyss.