Ask me what material I'd use to make
a human being and I'd answer:
glass. Ask me what shape
I'd mould it into and I'd reply

a cup – the ones that have felt the light
press of lips on their collarbones, or
the gentle caress of fingers easing
the soapbuds off their backs after
every meal. The ones that brim
with liquid light in a room gone
quiet after the candles are lit.
Ask me if I'm scared of the
thought of them breaking,
and I'd ask you to imagine
how easy it would be to
neglect the one thing
you thought was
shatterproof.