detecting a blind spot

I won’t love you

even as I sweep
your fallen, broken stars
into dusty piles
waiting on the linoleum
for the recycling bin

or sop up the salty tear-drop
remnants from your heart
broken over melted snow
held too tightly
in your warm, closed hand

during the solar eclipse
I sneaked a dangerous glimpse
at the gloriously hiding sun-
sometimes even stars and snowflakes
are only second place