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it may be an antique

but really, i couldn’t tell you its origins

it’s just been sitting on the shelf

since that one day when

i cracked the edge carelessly

tried to cover it up with rubber cement and

my talent for putting broken things together

(physical things, but not as yet my own soul)

a shabby ribbon to distract from the damage

but there was still one tiny shard missing

i never could find it and that irks me to no end

still, i can’t bear to throw it away

could be useful someday

used to grow something perennial

or cradle the beauty of the ephemeral

(i have hopes for my soul, too)

©mariah voutilainen 2018

Discover more of mariah voutilainen’s poetic musings at (re)imagining the mundane.

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when writing, i am at my most preoccupied with the intricate workings of the world.

2 thoughts on “pitcher”

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