LOVE

Let my edges that cut be stroked by sand and salt.

Let my slick surface coarsen till it’s crushed to bits.

Let my colors soften as they scrape the bottom.

Let the waves love me in their rough way.

Let me be changed by that love.

Let me not forget I held another

yet fully inhabit my particularity.

Let me be smooth enough to be rubbed by small fingers

and slipped inside a pocket or a bowl.

Let me prove that beauty is born when something breaks.