Got a much better picture frame

for photo of my love

kept here on the coffee table

since he died

The new one somewhat larger

a pleasing pearly multi-toned off-white

a little glossy, perfectly pristine

Opened up the old brown frame

and shocks ensued

or maybe shock too strong a word?

Had known already

glass inside somehow was cracked

at some point, over these dark years

(while I was mostly gone

engaged in years of far-off family care

a heartbreak time post heartbreak

a busy best-foot-forward, must-keep-smiling time

a time I can't and don't and won't regret

but also can't deny that I now feel

doubly broken, doubly done)

Back home at last, I saw the crack

at first quite faintly, thin black curving line

from left to right, from up to down

when ray of light from distant window

at some point on some random day

angled in just right to touch —

not just some kind of stain

not covert cobweb, dust or city grime —

to touch a scar, a cleft, a break

palpable across my photograph of him

standing stalwart

right here on our deck

in sunlight smiling

by our hibiscus, red-bloomed tree he loved

with green life wildly waving all around

At first had thought to get the glass replaced

But . . . was not sure of best way to proceed

in this pandemic time

with all the closures

without help

without a car to safely move about

but, most of all, without the will

the easy lively will to get things done.

Then came across the new frame

just by chance —

felt symbolic

felt a gift, felt meant to be

though still . . . that lack

of lively will left new frame

standing blankly staring

sadly empty many days

Today I opened it, took out the back

Turned to the smaller one

with my love waiting there inside

He came out strangely

slice of sharply broken glass attached

knife curved, keen to cut

At first was sure the shard would be removable —

was not, was somehow very strongly sealed

clung fiercely onto what I gaze at every day

stuck fast! unbudgeable

without destruction of the photograph

And so, another flail and fail

can't figure how

can't figure why

Why life in all these tiny spiteful ways

stays ever shocking, ever cruel

Why every single little thing these days

is just so loaded, so stupidly symbolic

Why I so lamely

keep on asking why