Erica Christina’s haiku uncovers the beauty of the broken.
Editor’s Note: The immediacy of Erica Christina’s poem enthralled me, and its conclusion stuck with me all day. We don’t often associate something “ripped up” as “beautiful,” and certainly not as something “waiting to be touched.” But the juxtaposition here makes perfect sense — a kind of perfect all-too-often unspoken sense. The poem made me think of the way scars are experiences seared into us, how muscular labor and struggle can so easily be hidden under the veil of flesh. Enjoy this one; carry it with you.