Three days turned out to be the break I never got.
Well, okay, let me back this up a bit.
There’s a Hindu goddess named Ahkilandeshvari. Her name
Roughly means something like “Never Not Broken.” Double negative turned deity. Go figure.
She rides a crocodile in a perpetual death-roll
(You know, that spinning thing they do to tear prey into little bite-sized chunks).
She never appears in one final or complete form, either. Instead, she’s
Always broken or still forming into something else.
“Always broken, never complete,” and furthermore,
“Strongest in pieces.”
I paraded this little thing down the hallway all last week.
Bounce, bounce, bounce,
It’s got this imperfection in it that sometimes makes it
Off in some wild direction
When you least expect it.
I found it in my purse,
Bummed a plane ride to Ireland with us.
Nestled away behind a zipper,
Wide-mouth faux beige hide,
Tucked in with the medicines my mother gave me
For a rainy day.
I forget where I picked it up, or
When I threw it into my safety-kit pocket.
To this day, it’s the only medicine I’ve pulled from it.
Near-perfect manufactured prescription sphere,
What’s the point in sugar-coating it?
Let’s dance in purple prose, something-nothing
Make it lovely, make it eloquent,
Poised and precious with blazing iron bones,
Crown jewel of the family crest,
Tuck your tail and doubt their adoration for you. (Lowly animal.)
You’re mangled and tangled in wires above,
Hanging by your scruff, dangling feet,
Peel back lips, bare your teeth,
Crocodile smile for the flashing pipes.
Prim and proper, poised to bite,
Hold your tongue;