Mind Blown

Because your apartment walls
are fracturing, because

a year of enclosure leaves you
desperate for rupture, wishing

someone would break apart
your geode head, relieve

the pressure of calcification.
You stretch your stiff neck,

strain to lift your heavy skull,
and you pray, so innocently,

for the splintered world in you
to reveal in spidervein cracks

that it is more than blue winter
and a hopeless year of stasis,

that you are still a person:
star stuff and amethyst,

something more than fossil.