Strewn

A poem about rising from the ashes of heartbreak.

When I left you
I hoped to be hit by a bus 

Perhaps a broken leg would outlast my heartbreak,
Or the part of myself that I hated would get cracked back into place,
Like a rocky nose,
Reconstructed to swoop elegantly 
 
I never felt those untouched bones until I closed your gate for the last time,
And opened the door to my car 
Slumped over the black, leather wheel
A pile of milky brittle,
Jagged and shattered,
Like chicken wings
That a shaman might read.

Would my body lay elegantly like a docile deer or be madly misshapen?