the wash

[aslant]

it lies around us like a cloud
a world we do not see.
--harriet beecher stowe


the world is well-timed.
you should know this by now:
the bell of glass that cracks in your hand,
in the sink, slippage and impact,
a brief spill of shards.
you should know by now the tricky feel of soap,
the way friction can loose glass from the hands
in a half-second, a momentary pause.

you wake from what you do
to the sound of sudden fracture.

in weak steam under the lukewarm tap
you wait for the blood to well up
from hidden cuts, but there is nothing,
and you gingerly gather the shards
in your water-warm palm.

you listen to the world
which has gone silent at your unharmed fingertips,
at the invisible lull before the brittle invasion of breakage.
hushed water resumes its whisper in your ears
with that sound as it hovers in the air.
but shhh hums the water steadily into the drain,
silencing echo's thin cacophony,
the burden of sound and its slow ebb
in this space of water and glass.
there is still a forest of abandoned wine glasses
remaindered from other evenings;
in each cupped bell the desiccated dregs
dry coin-drops of merlot that startle the water pink
even after so many days of neglect
in this house, your distraction.

you begin again, rinse and soap their thinness,
silent transparent rims and stems,
their blind glass curves.

the well-timed world resumes with your breath,
a remembered background,
a fine, uneven wash of sound.

Comments

[softer.livejournal.com]

extraordinary

Re:

[aslant.livejournal.com]

:)

[thankyou]

[ripening.livejournal.com]

(loud virtual applause)