The Needle, The Thread
       

What am I suppose
      to do with all of this
happiness? The needle

that pierced through
      then the thread that
follows, that seems

immeasurable, but so
      thin, delicate. I run
my fingers along

the healed seams
      in my skin, the patched
ruptures in the walls

of my mind. But now
      the storm has washed
the pavement, lost water

rises from its unadorned
      body and the flowering
trees flood the gutters

with pink. What am I
      supposed to do with
the scent of the weeds,

the sharp, impatient
      greenness of them, split,
as I am, with a history

of sorrow? When I breathe
      the sweet June light, my
lungs crackle, my hair

stands on end. What do
      I do with this swirl of
pines, the wasp nest's

astonishing swell, the rifts
      in the maple, rough
beneath my hands,

and my God, the sky—
      the sky—

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Copyright © 2016 Danielle Cadena Deulen All rights reserved
from Our Emotions Get Carried Away Beyond Us
Barrow Street Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission