BROKEN GLASS
Roger N. Taber
Broken glass on a beachÉ
fragments of half-forgotten summers
digging in the heels, pricking toes,
drawing blood from fingers
anxious to pull free, heads swimming
in a splendid sea, lovers not meant
to be together but making
the most of holiday weather till done;
Sun, moon and stars conspiring
to send us, weakly, our separate ways,
lust alone (though our bodies join)
unable to sustain the monotony
of breakfast at seven, home about six,
small talk on the table cloth,
fitting in sex between job and chores,
arguing over the next credit
card bill, whether or not we want kids
to fulfil a need and, if so – why?
Cry from the heart or desire to prove
a wedding ring still means
something? No wonder, glances
from strangers as they pass
send us scuttling, like crabs, across
broken glass - if only in
the mind’s eye, wondering where
each of us goes from here?
