OF THE BROKEN AND ALMOST BROKEN 

by Rosemarie Wurth-Grice   

I think therefore I am. – Descartes 

I am unfurled – a whirling dervish in a summer rain.  A thousand proverbs spilt in a desert  

I am unfurled – a mirage of thoughts drawn  

to the almost broken  

I am unfurled – a lace doily draped over a shelf  where China teacups sit and rattle as the train  rumbles two blocks away.  

For twenty years, those chattering cups  

chipped away my porcelain thoughts.  

Tonight, my dying mother called from the other room,  ”Is that thunder?”  

“No,” I answer. “It’s just the train.”