Glass

I stretch my pinky below
the thick base of my glass, as
so much has slipped through
my fingers and shattered
on the floor. The cool weight
against the knuckles,
against the pink tight flesh,
braced and reassuring,
is enough to coax
another grip, as so much
has slipped from my grasp
and shattered on the floor.

Image: Marika Vinkmann on Unsplash

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: