for my mother and father.
break me into a million pieces. rearrange my sad
face with an open-palmed hand, recreate what
it was like when i returned home slack-jawed
and still wanting and nothing you could say or do
could keep me from going over the edge into
empty air. uncatchable, i ran into traffic, roaring
my discontent, the loose ends of strings still
dangling from my wrists, cut. i crossed 7000 miles
and now all i need is a few more, to clean up
the blood from the floor, to clear my head of all
this ringing, a ghost daughter who holds your hand,
but all you do is shiver.