Pieces of Me
Sliding another coffin nail out of sky-blue cardboard,
lending yet another piece of myself to a stranger.
If giving a gift is giving part of yourself
you can find me in the lungs of street
performers in Rome who rise with electric light
and sing until the sun sends them to bed again.
You can find me in the deep breathing lungs
and steadfast hearts of all the friends who
take me with them as they dance into the night.
You can find me in the local economy of Woodruff
Park where the homeless trade cigarettes
for apples or shoes or rusted quarters
If you were to cut me open I wonder how many
pieces of how many people would spill out?
Momentary kindness builds the foundations
of my soul and everyday I add another brick to the wall
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