Already I’m lost inside
the dark wine. There’s so much
nothing it has become something
unruly and heartfelt, like a kid
having a tantrum in a mall
and throwing her crayons
into the fish tank. Only, it’s happening
inside my chest, and I am delighted.
I’ve organized my face
into something pleasant for the duration,
like a Mardi Gras mask
or an adorable koala cuddling up
to a human hand. You’re welcome—
I thought you might like that. Everyone
here is five
minutes older than they were
five minutes ago, yet they pretend
nothing miraculous
has happened. Don’t worry if the fish
tank breaks, or your faith,
or some of the hearts, or some of the bones
in some of the people. The only thing that leaks
out of every broken thing
is compassion.