Anastasia Clark Poems

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There were long hyphens in our day-
When no one spoke; no one exhaled

As we contemplated the broken puzzles-
The broken tiles all over the floor

Some might have called us mad-
Insane- in this ceramic nightmare

Of yoga knees and bloody feet-
Empty bottles scattered on a garden mat

And still we persevered-
With our buckets of glue and fingers of paste

Figuring how to fit ourselves into this chaos-
Of porcelain folly and jaded beliefs

This irksome chaos of so-called matrimony-
This well-earned puzzle that some call LOVE.

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