a chest
full of flowers—
open me
*
my thumb hurts, I say,
my dad’s favorite fix—drop
a rock on your foot
*
only a sip
and already I’m drunk—
desert after rain
*
my knee hurts, I say
and the world
breaks my heart
*
puddle, puddle,
puddle, puddle, puddle,
tear
*
why so serious
says the leaf
already gold
*
such a blessing
to be thirsty in a season
of rain
*
my heart hurts, I say,
and the old poet says
live by breaking
*
using a thread
to climb to heaven, the angels
toss me a rope
I saw that gold leaf too, and here it is only September. It may be that the reframings speak to each other, but the leaf, the thirst, and the old poet are reframings I see best.