Some Things Are More Delicate Than Others

Liana Kapelke-Dale


Some things are more delicate
than others.

Soft fingers link daisies into chains,
and my wounds are patched
with cobwebs and moss. In the garden,
rabbits feast on tulip buds while
I ponder the softness of fur
caught against the coarseness
of a trapper’s calloused hand.

No one is innocent.

Loss is delicate.
The strands of connective tissue
that bound us together separate, 
untying our lax hearts, spiced like
cinnamon bark and stained with the
ink of so many unwritten verses.

No one is culpable.

Rain tumbles down through the sky
like you and I once stumbled through
shameless bliss in my now empty bed.

Some things are more delicate
than others, easily torn between
careless fingers.


Liana Kapelke-Dale is a poet and law student whose other interests include classic rock, Latin American travel, and vintage fashion. Her work has been seen most recently in Devilfish ReviewStar*LineEmerge Literary Journal, and you are here.