brittle

i don't know anymore if i want to be stronger.
i have swallowed so many rocks. tasted their
edges. fingers from a low cloud saying,
"just one more & then everyone is golden."
the one more becomes a city. becomes a mountain
i have laid for myself to climb when 
i need to reach my thoughts. desire is murky.
like looking through a beer bottle at the sun. 
what is a star & what is a street lamp? instead
of all of that, i would like to be brittle. not soft.
i do not want to fall off the bone or mash
in someone's teeth. i want to fracture imperfectly.
the texture of dry rice noodles & my grandmother's
fingernails from years of clawing days open.
i want my body to be a measure of the too-much.
a place for everyone to stop & share our breaking.
the mountain turned into a pile of glass 
for the light to play in. i open my mouth. give 
the birds a place to weep. each break becoming
a giving. how the arms of trees fall to give
the mushrooms their lungs. how the teeth 
of old dogs drop to become rosaries. 
let me then be a breaking place. the crusts 
of warm bread. mermaid's purses. a spoon's shiny hip
to fracture the face of the thinnest sugar.