She asked if I was broken.

I responded, “Pick a piece to ask”

A constellation surrounded by dark

Never gazed upon

Never traced with fingertips

Darkness that pollutes city lights

I’ll never join the sky.

I glimmer shortly for heads hung low

The glass unswept that sinks between concrete texture,

Covered by a single leaf of fall.

I’ve gripped the wind with pollen

Yet, nothing seemed to bloom.

I’m two hands stuck at noon

Moved in an instant from, to get time from someone else.

She asked me if I was broken.

I looked around and asked myself.