while I read this book
because if I do,
I will hear the words in all their fullness.
If I listen to these words
without the numbing action movie soundtrack running,
without the hero crashing through walls,
without bombs exploding
and That Evil One looking sinister
while the rain falls and the airplane roars,
then the woman screaming
will not be the damsel in distress on the screen.
It will be me, in my easy chair,
reading this too-hard book
about someone else's terrible, heart-rending loss
which turned out to be my own.
Sometimes the soundtrack of your own life
is too hard to hear
so I will let this movie play instead
and maybe if it does,
my heart will not shatter into a million pieces
like the concrete wall bursting under the weight of James Bond's truck
and go floating into the world,
pieces of me I am afraid
will never return.