Cracks…..cracks…they run through us…veins of traveling fissures

leaking god knows what.

How long ago was your fall ? Mr. or Miss.

And do you know what you miss?

That once held you together.

Can you find that moment in time…where your mind

teetered,

then tottered.

Arms flailing….you plummeted

that hole in the pit of you widening.

and then something just died.

inside.

They call me Humpty that rhymes with my last name

Dumpty.

The king horses scotch taped me up and superglued my butt

I’m walking …I’m talking…Breathing through

a cracked gut.

But I’m breathing..

Not a yolk sizzling in the sun.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016