Broken

holes in the floorboards-
the regal oak panel door
left hanging askew
–
no longer a home-
dim autumn light
caught in the cobwebs

wide open prairies
the promise of a new life
in every acre
–
covered wagons-
homesteads built
on sacred land

the knife in my back
carved the windows in the walls
I’d built for myself
–
creeping ivy-
ruins of stone
foundations

underneath my bed
photos of my childhood
slowly fading lies
–
an old cigar box-
sacred relics
of my youth

alone on the road
speeding towards oblivion
far away from you
–
velvet panic-
our safe word
forgotten

his paper thin skin
stretched across arthritic hands
so easily bruised
–
a spreading elm-
our initials
overgrown

a shattered windshield-
shards of broken promises
spread across the road
–
text messages-
driving past what
used to be a car

family outings
picnics paid for with the blood
of fallen soldiers
–
small flags-
dates carved
in cold granite

clouds out ash and dust-
the soil of this arid land
affords no purchase
–
orange skies-
rivers of black glass
plunge into the sea

pinpoints of starlight
fall from the firmament and
streak across the sky
–
midnight-
lines of fire
split the sky