Breaking by Karen Schubert
“When I knocked the coffee cup
from its ledge, and it broke
into the shower, surrounding
my feet with sharp pottery
slipping along in the currents,
I felt the way
I’m always breaking
something, a hand-thrown
mug, a path, a promise.
This life requires a map
I can’t find, a gentleness
I can’t feel, a surety I know
only in these edges that keep me
from stepping on a mess
of my own making.
Such a gift
we have in the consent of others,
the minutes they give
us, I offer
no refund, only lie quiet
in the whole of it, saying,
don’t believe I think I know,
only see me now, bending
to pick up what is too small.
Don’t walk too close, unless
you are willing to mix
your blood with mine.”
(Source: grammatolatry)
