The Glass Jar


I did not suspect the glass jar,

as it pulled a pirouette through its shiny shell

and shattered at our feet.


the fracturing sound encompassed a death,

as the shards screamed and tinkled in a

symphony of surrender.


each piece

absorbed a prism of light and danced

wildly, until completely still; beautifully

arranged in a pattern resembling a

butterfly’s wing held up to the

summer sun.

we watched them fall like flakes around us,

clamoring, climbing, resounding…


and I said to you with sweet sobriety,

“When I go, I too will make such a sound.”


Allison Criswell

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