The world falls between its cracks.
\nThere is dust and separation,
\nmuddy rain, a broken flute
\namong the stones, and scars
\nleft by lightning.
\nWhat side is the beginning?
\nWhat side is the end?<\/p>\n
The crack in my ceiling
\ncomes and goes.
\nWe fill it with putty,
\ncover it with paper.
\nIt is a persistent fault,
\ngrinning at my obsessive
\ndesire for order,
\na warning of life\u2019s fragility,
\nthings breaking.<\/p>\n
My wife calls my attention to it,
\nas if I never noticed.
\nAs if I were blind to wholeness,
\nwould not notice if the universe
\nseparated,
\nthe sky were torn,
\nthe stars speeding from each other
\nand the need to pick a side,
\nto call out farewell,
\nand say good-by to childhood,
\nthe strength of youth,
\nto watch love
\nshatter in the abyss of its past.<\/p>\n
My wife knows who she loves.
\nHow I pout and moan
\nwhen the world breaks,
\nnot accept what I can\u2019t control,
\nreach inside the cracks
\nto bring the sides together,
\nlike a heart that is broken,
\nand drowns in the gulf
\nof its separation.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The world falls between its cracks. There is dust and separation, muddy rain, a broken flute among the stones, and scars left by lightning. What…<\/p>\n