Earth Quakes

A glass table shatters

like a family

after the affair

or the woman’s cry

as she hears

that awful diagnosis. 

Tiny jewels fallen

into cracks, shards

of what was once 

a stable place for wine

and plates of food,

now scattered aimlessly 

across this surface remind

us of life’s intrinsic 

fragility and our naked

thirst for certainty.  

Such urgency unslaked.

How this next hungry

breath might be 

our last, 

or the newborn’s pink

and lusty first, lips 

quivering she leans

towards the mirror 

of shimmering 

fulfillment, then 

takes a sip.