pulled apart and put back together again
like the puzzle with always a few pieces
missing each time it tries to make the full picture.

looking into the deep sky with different eyes
blank pages of 8 x 11
scraped clean of the blotted black ink.

lips of flamed red and boxed up crates of belonging.
the key was thrown away into oblivion.
she has a panoramic heart,
stretching throughout the world’s palms.
indigo three petaled flowers grow from the soil
foreign to the strangers of upper class.

she spreads her shattered pieces like ashes of lost loved ones,
into the the clear blue water bodies, sinking into the vicinity.