I Bear the Hard News

I bear the hard news,
the shaking trees
unfurling darkly across a winter-whitened sky.

I rock back and forth for only a moment,
my eyes turning back, far back
to memories that play like a sick reel-to-reel.

Good thing now, my bones are plated in steel,
my gut, mesh and wire,
my feet are bare and blue.

I bear the hard news,
and I bear it alone
and even the stars whisper your name.

I am frantic, searching,
my hair unwashed and falling,
lank and dark across my shoulder.

I eat stones, I taste iron,
resting my head on concrete
my hands ragged and torn.

I bear the hard news,
and the world begins to buzz
and finally to split.