A lawnmower driven across a tuxedo.
A casserole thrown into a woodchipper.
A cherry pie run over by a snowblower.
I am shredded and sprayed. An IED stuffed
inside the corpse of a coyote. The sturgeon
in the propeller, the windhover in the turbine.
I am cantaloupes hurled from the overpass,
Corona bottles shattered with buckshot.
Gather my atomized remains, try to reassemble
my hundred thousand scattered pieces.
Even God, huddled in his shawl
in the nursing home rec room, would struggle
to put this jigsaw puzzle back together.