Inside I scream,
a panicked shrill cry
of terror to break the glass
between me and the world outside,
to clear the debris, the dead insects
off the windshield that prevent me from seeing
I seek the button to release that fluid which wipes the dust away;
clearly, I want to see clearly
With a vibrato so intense, I shake
until I shatter, the momentum of my resonance holds over
to coagulate the reassembly of all my pieces, binding me at the seams
as if brand new, as if once again whole
But I know I am merely a puzzle, a pastiche, a patchquilt,
a part apart from form, a formal departure,
a mere formality of the species,
an uninformed biological unit,
a uniform of skin
akin to nil
When all is said and done;
when all is screamed and done
Chagall 2020
