GLASS

Only her red purse returns.


Inside it a sweet
some small change &
blood besprinkled glass.


It alone survives the crash.


Death is only a newspaper headline.
Still...this grief!


I weep tears that don't show up
on my face.

I push my fingers
deep in the purse
cut my fingertips to bits


the held glass
(all I have of you)
scarring my face

blind to the pain.

The old blood and the new mingles
and once more


if only for a second
we are together


for as long as the pain lasts.