CALL ME BELOVED

I used to have a family,
I tell the flowers, I tell
anybody who’ll listen
and not just wait to talk, I
tell the broken queso jar
on my sidewalk, outside –
largest shards kicked over to
pallbearing blades of grass,
I confess all the ways
I was once one piece of a
broken whole, somewhere –
I say this out loud so
my grief disturbs the air
and makes it all real.