Glass Jaw

I shattered again

     alone in the dark last night.

     Shards glistened in the moonlight.

I picked up the pieces

     as best I could

          so you wouldn't cut your feet.

No need to fetch the dust pan,

     no broom,

     no pail,

     no sweep.

I'll piece myself together again,

     more glue,

     more tape,

     more tears.

Don't touch me yet,

     I haven't set.

Each time,

     I fear,

          I must

               make more

                    from less

                         and ask

what's left?