On Breaking
 
This world will break
you,
a poem
of tooth of blood of bone.
This world will break you.
 
Everything you own
will break—
your dishes, your window, your car.
Your body will break –
fingernail, hymen, heart.
Everything will break.
It must.
 
The ice must
break before the river marrow runs.
The seed must
break  before  seedlings rise to sun.
Every sidewalk crack leaks
newborn green.
​
This world will break you.
 
This world is an egg
promising
fledgling wings
promising
flight.