Morning despair
A different sort of steady grind
And lingers
Slight inroads
On the detritus
I hide behind
It’s not enough to topple the edifice
I have to shred it
But — it propped up what?
And what’s the pay off?
A slow round of withdrawal and engagement
And little fragments cling
A shawl of many slivers
Cut from a cloth of my own wreckage.