The Smallest Splinter

Remember

our first thanksgiving together,

giving strength to our smallest finger

tightly wrapped around the wishbone

as it cracked in two.

The table erupted with laughter when

I held up the tiniest splinter of bone.

I smiled in defeat. 

Remember

you looked at me and

 with a puppeteer’s release,

quickly looked down

An agony in my stomach,

 with the hurt like a warrior’s jab, 

told me our forever days

 had a full life of a lightning flash.

Was your wish to free yourself of me?

If so, it came true in one swift fracture.

I thought the years would

launder the pain from the

sound of your name.

I no longer give thanks with the customary 

“wishing upon a bone.”

For the greatest pain is found in the smallest of splinters.