We made a life of friendly in-betweens
for years, in sips: like cocoa in the cold.
A breakfast kiss, and maybe half an hour
before I started dinner. One more smile
while sleep sinks in, with pats and twining limbs.
You filled the interstices of my life
like water in a glass already filled
with pebbles - not just brimful but in stacks
that balanced on the edge and sometimes slipped.
A busy life: I liked it. What went wrong?
Perhaps just weather: all that water froze,
and cracked the glass that held it. Or perhaps
you didn’t like the pebbles: thought the glass
would hold more you without it. Which is fair.
But I’m a glass of pebbles, and they’re there....
If you've any comments on this poem, Kathryn Jacobs would like to hear them.