reply to neruda's ode to broken things
and if we give them to the sea,
these things no one broke,
but that got broken anyway...
their fragments could wash upon another shore
to shine like treasures
that cannot be resurrected from silt
or briney graves that tumble them, not whole,
but in bits and pieces of memories
not bright enough to tell how they crumbled
or from where they came.
if we take them to the sea,
why not then burn them,
from urns that will not hold them quiet,
let them drown in the roar of tides,
let them never be heard again.
we could give them to the sea.
we could let them bejewel an abyss so deep
the sun cannot find them
we could mend the clock,
or sing the minutes of our lives
to our own liking.
we can sweep terra cotta dust
of flower pots in a fine mound,
plant the violets in rich ground
that cannot imprison them.
we could replace these broken things.
we could mend them.
we could keep them from the sea.