Thursday, May 17, 2018

17 May 2018


Today
There are no words
For anybody but me.
I managed to sprain my finger yesterday
Without even noticing
This morning it is stiff and hard to bend
As I wipe up tiny clear thorns of glass
The remains of the Mason jar my son dropped in the kitchen
While he was trying to help.

The jar shattered and flew
Already gritty floors suddenly studded with glassy shards
Hiding, barely catching the light
Waiting to hobble us after breakfast.
And the boy is big now, almost half my weight
Too tall and broad to pick up
And spin around in my arms
Too big, maybe, for me to make everything
Alright.






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