Ma Mere

I broke him
into 1200
cigarettes,
1200 perfect
plastic placentas,
1200 weeks
from the week
that I broke him.

I broke him
into ceramic sky,
into olive jungles,
into sea salt,
into light,

into lions,

into light.
I broke him
with a wide-
toothed comb,
with a rake,
with a sentence.

I broke him
like a vase
on my suicide box,
and my last eye
watched rainbows
sunshone
through the prism
of his skin.