Broken

I think everything in me has been broken. The shiny ceramic red heart lies on the floor in shards, its light that used to flash electric now glows steady in the dark. Outside the window I watch the souls of my mother and father wrapped in black shawls ride down the river, weird water, in strange boats. They are without hearts, liver, feet—except soles, they are all souls now. I am here in my time, lit, broken, fire burning, full of holes. Vibrating, at last, light, life, mine. At last, broken.