"Glass"
for Aunt Mary
The first cut made barely a dent –
But after that the walls were bent.
At first her claws left only scratches –
Then the crazing came in cobwebbed patches.
It cracked like ice beneath her heat;
It broke, or melted, with every beat,
With each sharp word, each pointed deed –
Each aimed to burst the bubbling bead.
And now that the glass is finally shattered,
Only a fool would believe it had ever mattered.
Karen Hathaway Pittman is an award-winning poet who is currently compiling her first book-length collection of poems, The Awful Colossus of Longing. You may contact her at ltpkhp@aol.com.


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