To ram it back in, with splinters
Slicing the skull, my skull into
Shards of hard knock luck.
I hide all hammers, your hammer
Inside the safety deposit box
For safekeeping, my well-being -
You can’t find it there
Or my screwball effort to save the
Flotsam as it bends out of reach
Too far away for the withering fingertips
That long to make a deep indention in
Your left cheek. I leave you unscathed.
So much for wishful thinking, or cathartic
Means of reconciliation, like replacing
The cap on an empty container of lighter fluid.