THINGS THAT (EASILY) BREAK

                               after Jamaal May
 
Your mother’s good china.
 
The dozen eggs you hauled home, no mind
to the rain-soaked, oil-slicked road
 
or your knack for falling (on the ground
and apart). A cell phone
 
screen when you have a tiled bathroom,
high counters, and a kitten.
 
The clavicle. Rules, especially
when they’re stupid rules, like when
 
you’re a kid and they say
No talking! or No running down the ramp!
 
as if not flying by like a windswept
baby wipe is easy. As if you’re not a bird. As if.
 
Sticks when you step on them. Sunglasses.
and wine glasses. Have you heard
 
of a dinner party where not even a single
glass breaks?
 
The ice. When things are right.
Day, how it breaks open, how it shatters
 
the night with sunrays, splits you
from your sleep, pierces your eyes with blades
 
of light. A fast when there’s pancakes.
Garden-ripened tomatoes. Wet
 
paper bags. The lazy coworker
in the next cubicle. Your word. Mirrors.
 
Don’t even get me started on headphones.
Or hearts. An umbrella, but only
 
when the rain pours,
only when the wind wails,
 
only when you need that shelter.