When the spirit breaks,
That's when the crying stops.
Your thoughts are only an asterisk above your head.
In that moment you are aware of your whole body.
You can feel all the way
From the outside of your belly,
To the inside of your spine.
You know there ought to be blood and guts between,
but instead there is only a stale, green air.
Before the spirit breaks
It looks like a slat from a Venetian blind.
After, if looks like one broken up
In sections of various lengths.
Or after a while
It looks like that.
It happened to me,
And I'm still alive.
But I can always hear its rattling around in there
As I walk to and fro.
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