If I could I would try to piece together the shattered glass of a cup half empty:
powers like Superman I'd fly fast as infinity to reverse the rotation of the earth
and the course of historical events.
A slow motion shot of fragments levitating from kitchen's hidden corners,
gasps of shock turning back into unknowing looks
slippery grip sliding back into a firm handshake?
The sticky mess of grape juice or wine or coffee or beer
gently slops its way up my cupboard doors,
creeping up in as if in backward gravity
glopping and rising up to meet the cup
just at the moment of implosion
just at the moment when the hand had slipped
cup then falling at a right angle only to burst against the rigid counter top:
at this the moment I realize that counter tops have a weight and strength
as Atlas holding up the earth, as Hercules sweeping the shit out of the stables.
But do you, in watching the glass slip,
instead lament my shadowy and unreliable first person narration?
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