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.