Is this how I carried this
all along? I mean, why does
it feel this way, and if it has
always felt like this, why
have I never noticed?
Or never known?
No wonder I feel weak.
Always there an inch,
creeping and peeking.
No matter how hard
I tried, it always came apart.
Of course it would.
Even when the earth shakes
and quakes and creaks, it
still holds itself up, and its
tears streak its broken face.
But the tears--the tears are
not the whole, and somehow,
where the tears come, where
the tears back they go.
YOU ARE READING
TO FAIL SO FLAWLESSLY
PoetryEDITS IN PROGRESS: A prose-poetry chapbook exploring themes of insecurity, doubt, lost fabrics, and what it means to fail so flawlessly.
