My life: bits of smashed
glass
in a bloody mire.
I lift them up here. My
arms
seem very long today.
Up go all the filthy fragments
of me
into the royal buttressed blue.
Look! Fistfuls of dirty shards
arise
and come down again as stars,
as a constellation: my life
arrayed
behind and before,
all her molecules
scoured
and reassembled,
a jewelled system in the
dark air,
imperceptibly orbiting.