Day 394: Broken Jar
∴
i held
i held the sweetest smells
like bouquets in my blood
in the dim and sacred corners
where one keeps
the things we must not forget
but must not also touch.
i stayed
i stayed like a pearl
and cloistered me in muscle
to be hidden.
to be sure.
that the sand i had been made of
did not make castles with the crowd
and wash away –
away.
i meant
i meant to have been used
in charity
not minding
constant scarcity
and giving
all the worth of me
to holy, hurting feet.
but now i sit
in alabaster bits
and wonder if my housed
was any salve at all.
i wonder,
upon whose senses
i have spilled
and whose purpose
have i filled
and where is value
for the reaping
when all my wealth
has took to seeping?
o, clamor
i clamor to contain
this precious, ruptured vein
and hold –
please can i hold it all –
again.
∴
