The bowl is still cracked,
but gold glints
in early light.
Steam from the tea
rises—
a soft unravelling.
Outside, the plum tree
shakes off
a single blossom.
You are nowhere,
and still
I pour two cups.
Ryan Stone

The bowl is still cracked,
but gold glints
in early light.
Steam from the tea
rises—
a soft unravelling.
Outside, the plum tree
shakes off
a single blossom.
You are nowhere,
and still
I pour two cups.
Ryan Stone

“There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” … Leonard Cohen
“Invincible Pieces”
I, a broken ginger jar
I, have been damaged and mismanaged
I, am repairable and valuable … Ivor
How beautiful. I’m familiar with bowls being repaired with molten gold, so I was picturing the scene of your poem before I scrolled far enough down to see it.
What a wonderful way to step into a poem, Alarie. I hope I did your mind-image justice. Lovely to hear from you, I hope you’re well 🙂
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