broken somewhere

he walked and skipped and stumbled, broken
somewhere, ajumble somewhere, wondering
why the poppies came up orange

why the day came up short, regretting
another bed, another tangled blanket
hurling memories in the dark

but he was a careful man, collecting
pieces of a tidy and meticulous fall
from room to room to room

shining window glass, smoothing rumpled
things that slow the hours, slow the
fingers across the table, tracing in the dust

he'd forgotten, where he'd been, where
he'd told his father sometime in the night
that all broke things found heaven

there'd be place enough, some uncluttered
corner where he could rest, close
his eyes until he knew his way again

he'd gentled down expectations, loaned
desires as he was pummeled through the
mornings, forgetting how to keep himself whole

just another page, on another shelf
sheltered from the sun, marked with
fades, marked with serial cancellations