My grandmother
Repaired the fracture
In this Japanese rice bowl
With brown glue
And no apologies
Years upon years ago
And set it on her desk
With the repair to the back
And out of her view.

Chrysanthemums enwreath the bowl
In oranges, reds, and golds
And the rust of that glue
Adrift in a porcelain sea.

If she were alive,
My grandmother would be
One-hundred, five years old.
She would find the glue
Down cellar and
Fix any fracture

That came between her
And the bouquet

She made of life.


  1. 'There is a crack in everything -- that's how the light gets in!"


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