Breakages

Just a mixing bowl

Easily replaced

An ordinary thing

Made venerable

By association,

Not even that

Just the knowing

How cross/ sad you’d be

At the breakage.

So absolute

In a moment

Whole then not.

Like you

Big bits and sudden shards.

Another hold on my

Mother gone.

Not that your baking was legendary

Not even this one but

An ordinary Pyrex

I used to get my fingers

Sticky in icing or batter.

But this is the bowl I have-

Had – until laid out in bits on a concrete floor

And it’s just another jolt.

It doesn’t matter

But seeing it there every day

On the shelf

Half round perfection

brought pleasure

brought you

Into my mind’s gaze.

I’m sorry you’re gone

I hope it was ok

We miss you.

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