Incoherent

My heads come unstrung like a pearl necklace, iridescent

pellets bouncing and rolling away

under the sofa and into the cracks in the floor,

and you chase them as a maiden auntie who thinks

some things still matter.

Who still thinks she can find the very last one.

Who will search until she does.

But

arms all a-babbling and foaming mouths

formless wordless jumbles,

all I have is this length of string which

sometimes I cannot see has

barely any bead left.

Auntie says the necklace is gone,

the string empty, knowing no better:

the child telling the Emperor he is naked,

as my heads hail-storm and roll away

connections fragmenting broken

creating such havoc.

And I cannot tell.

If I get stuck here

incoherent

will you visit until

I can paste together? Climb this strange code?

You wise-ass bastard.

Help me be a bird.