He came to me in pieces
Many missing, others jagged and chipped
Shards of a man

I picked him up
By the sharp edges
Without even putting on gloves

It took all my skill
And more than a decade
To arrange his shattered self  

Into something

Glued together with guilt
Gaps filled with
My guts
Smoothed with a rottenstone
Moistened by
My tears  

Finally, my work here is done.
He’ll have to shellac himself.  

I am leaving
With one well-earned piece
Of him
Tucked in my pocket 

Like a bad penny