When you are done

Counting the shells

Of broken concrete

By your favorite corner,

I beg you to gather

All the shards into one place,

Set the oven to 365 degrees,

And bake them all

Together.

While you wait

For dinner,

Maybe you could answer

My latest letter

And end my three month stasis

Of thought and heart.

Don’t think to rush

Though.

The casserole is burning,

And your teeth are hurting.

While you try to chew

Through all that weight,

Maybe think of the paintings

In your house,

Their brushstrokes,

And the lonely blokes

Who gave them meaning

After giving them to you.