1 minute read

All the Cracked Things Bernadette Gallagher

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.