There were six in all:
Little globe drinking glasses I bought at the thrift store
Crystal and matching
Each brushed with blue
Close to the base
Faded as if washed too many times
I broke them all in the past three years
Except for one—only one left
It’s always pointing that out to me
Sitting there on the shelf among other matching sets
Of plastic blues and rainbows—
The only breakable cup left

I had thought those days were over
The days when my clumsiness caused
Breakage
And I had thought the sloped linoleum
Was softer
Or the glasses were tougher
Than before
Or maybe since I had put a rug on the floor
Beneath the sink
Anything that slipped would land softly
And stay intact

2000