living through the cracks
in moments
like glimmering shafts
of sunlight
through the broken window slats
of an aging house
maybe brief
until the clouds come
or the moment has passed

i am jealous of the cracks
and all that falls through
forgotten treasures
spilled like salt
here even where the cracks
can be the straight lines
to someone
to somewhere
more subversive
– perhaps

than the seemingly lost
but there – caught again
in the light
glinting like diamonds
waiting to be noticed


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