All the Cracked Things we hold — a window frame, three whole panes one cracked, as his hands put it in place thirty years ago. Glass chalice, reddened in its blowing, cracked but still whole sits on a sill beside the cracked pane. Frosted amber, flute-like jug, cracked. Not used since — for mulled wine. Whiskey glass, a wedding gift, rim chipped. We gently run a finger to feel the cut and drink from the other side of the circle. Bernadette Gallagher
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