Pieces of Me

Pieces of me
are sliced along definite lines.
An exacto knife
used with meticulous care
creates little wedges to let others glimpse
what they need to see
allow me
to hold myself together
long enough to discover
what the whole of me

In my precision
of personality division
I have lost a critical sliver of pie.

Peaches without cream,
Abbot without Costello,
Romeo sans Juliet.

Prosciutto thin identity
has left only crumbs of myself
that even a mouse turns away
in search of something more satisfying.

Bits and chunks
fragments and hunks,
accuracy is gone
along with my sense of self.
I am stretched,
a drum without a skin.

I collect and contain
delicate scraps and tainted morsels
discarded haphazardly
wiping the knife on a hip.

Like Humpty who fell
my shell
is cracked.
I don’t have King’s horses or King’s men
to put everything back

Paper Mache is my life line.
Glued sheets and strips
rebuild layer upon layer
of my raw, divided self.
All of the fragments lump together
as a heavy, wet mush.

form is given
to a new
unbroken heirloom.
A valued object full of stories
to be passed from
generation to generation.

A hidden treasure beneath all the layers.

The Shroud

(image credit: anna marie jagodzinska)

sleek veil slowly lifts
bright light streams in
eyes blink
temporary blindness

optimistic future comes into view
complications tumble aside
path visible

meaningful words are felt
healing music is heard
movement occurs

with gust of bad news
silky shroud falls
flutters across face

intense struggle

finest fabric weighs heavy
attempt to avoid destruction
necessary filter carries great value

disguised opportunities
await discovery

Clandestine Visitor

Light patter of feet
upon bare floor
spring rain gently tapping on glass

Little person unable to sleep
attempts stealthy reprieve from night time ritual
creeps toward lamplight

Open book lies on blanketed lap
words on yellowed pages invisible
disinterest feigned in clandestine visitor
silently daring next move

The child darts from shadow to shadow
a staccato movement
stops and starts

Her position freezes
as I clear my throat
fetching a giggle

she anticipates discovery

With the willpower of Hercules
I do not look her way


Until just the right moment to
my arms out
to grab her

Squeals of delight elicited
as we tumble
into a laughing heap

A Gnome

(image credit: inplacesdeep.blogspot.com)

We came upon a gnome
blowing up balloons
seated at the corner of a house
Discovery of his presence delighted us
piqued our curiosity
We approached slowly

He appeared to be equally curious about us
remaining seated on a wool blanket
black boots tucked under his body
straw hat at an impossible angle on his head
round lenses of his wire glasses magnifying his dark eyes

The gnome spoke rapidly
in rhyme
he told a silly story
that blended with questions
he didn’t bother to hear answered
We laughed
amused by his silly demeanor

While all this took place
a young elf
paced side to side to the left of our seated friend
The older gnome ignored the movement
remained focused on us
Between giggles we tried to speak
but he had a tale to spin

He handed a balloon sceptre
pronouncing a new queen
investing with authority a new royal
custodian of the inflated rod
And was gone

We blinked with mirth
not quite understanding
what had just taken place
a bit of magic added to our day