Secondhand Broke

There’s always something that will take you

to the doorstep of your trauma; this songbird

sounds like every other songbird,

sounds like the songbird outside my mother’s house.

Me, bicycle-racing through the cold

fog-breath of morning. Me, sliding into gravel driveway.

Imagine my kneecaps a steel cow stop, bright rust

bleeding. Imagine every part of me a harder part of me,

or, better, imagine me, after all this, still being soft.

I’m not searching

through the wreckage anymore.

I’m not waiting

for some great gust of wind

to blow this way.

Thunder strikes in some cornfield

down the street and I’m not frightened

of you or any other harsh light

striking down. Regret is a town

I don’t visit anymore.

”Secondhand Broke” is a poem that I wrote in 2019. It was published in Vulture Bones Magazine, which you can read online.