Poem: It Gets Real
By: J.L. Amos
Creamy, purple-flowered porcelain.
A tulled ballerina in toe shoes
spins to brass polyphonics,
mindless with a strawberry sneer.
Bump it off the dresser with a searching elbow,
rage smash it on the wall,
finger push it. Watch it fall to the floor:
the veneer of a life.
Shed your salt for lost allure,
sweep it to the dust pan. Sort the pieces,
cut your fingers up.
Glue the shards together.
Behold the blood, the chips, the jagged edges –
see the beauty you’ve created.