Sunrise Is Poison

it's never what you expect

the single brilliant explosion

the sound of something shattering

deep in your chest

instead:

tired. tired. you really don't think

something this broken

can lose anymore

of its grimy bits

it's those cheap white ceramic bowls

chipped already, they don't

come back together

when they fall from trembling hands

to worn wood floors bowed in the middle and collecting rain

Yet?

(no one warned me. Guess I'm more leather than glass)

The pieces don't come at all.

Another hairline crack

straining the seams until they bleed

with oil & spit)

yet the bowl feels and looks whole

when you pick it up for the

millionth time--

dust off the dog hair and crumbs

throw it into the sink for later--

I'm too worn to hold

anything more in my skins

crunchy, dry and frayed

they bow, too,

and out too far in the center

avoid the rain now

it pours enough under roofs

does nothing to cleanse me

spills spread heavy into stains

and the burst comes somewhere (everywhere?)

in your stomach instead,

I'm all snot and tears and

burning eyes

Wait with bated breath

for the coming crackle

please, gods, don't make me

pick the chips back up again

(!!!!)

elmer's glue and cheap black paint

only do so much

throw what's left in a river

swollen with yellow mud and trash

boil and gurgle over

and burn what the water spits up