Fracture

My grandmother

Repaired the fracture

In this Japanese rice bowl

With brown glue

And no apologies

Years upon years ago

And set it on her desk

With the repair to the back

And out of her view.

Chrysanthemums enwreath the bowl

In oranges, reds, and golds

And the rust of that glue

Adrift in a porcelain sea.

If she were alive,

My grandmother would be

One-hundred, five years old.

She would find the glue

Down cellar and

Fix any fracture

That came between her

And the bouquet

She made of life.