Published on: 9/30/2011
Souvenir

The piece you chose,
cool slip of glass,
your fingertips knew as yours
among the rows of warped
Murano, blasted metal dust,
caramelized silica,
The brailled seams of a
tortured swordfish.

You remembered something,
liquid mercury seeking itself
in the creases of your palms.
Aqua blues and coral pinks,
the remembrance of tides
when your doorbell was
a little white eye measuring hours
by the breath of the sea.

Breached fish, stunned in glass
is never the worse
for your worrying fingers
never worn by the grit
of your sandals and tuna fish days.
Looking at it a thousand times
never once diminishes
its carping beauty.