I found it in the gutter after the storm—

I found it in the gutter after the storm—

a shard of something iridescent, torn

from something larger I'll never know.

The way it caught the light made me stow

it in my pocket like a tiny god.

Six months and it's still there.

I take it out when I'm doing laundry, stare

at the dirt still stuck in one corner,

watch it shift color—blue, green, a corner

of light I keep returning to.

My partner says it's trash.

I can't explain the flash

of need when I found it,

how something broken could ground it,

could choose me.