If
Write beautifully
words that could sear and pop
with the light of stars
They will cause palpitations
be boxes opening into boxes
revealing one lone puzzle piece
Rend yourself
the scraps of white cloth
will be made into scarves
Language will fill sails
or at least bring to mind
the image of full sails
Fragility
everything should wreak of breakage
and the feeling of tears on fingers
These true blunt instruments
these lines could be claw-footed bathtubs
that would fill with blood and flowers
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