How often I puzzle how to put things back together,
how to make the splinters and mismatched edges
and chunks of time hold until the next morning.
Sometimes new screws and bolts and bungee cords
keep the unkeepable together long enough
to make it to the next repair shop.
Sometimes duct tape and bandages stop
leaking eyes and hearts long enough
to make it to the next poor choice.
Sometimes I can jumpstart a stalled conversation.
Sometimes I can’t find anything in my toolkit
to fix what’s broken: cancer, heart attacks, death.
Sometimes I have to turn the open sign to closed,
lock the door, and try again tomorrow.
published in The Interstital
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