You know these curves better than I do.
You trace them with intention,
with lightness, with love.
You take my shape slowly,
knowing that I have not yet
finished growing or grieving.
And with one touch you smooth
my shattered edges into glass that
was forged in passion instead of pain.
I cannot be broken with you lifting me up.
This was written as part of National Poetry Writing Month 2021, sparked by the NaPoWriMo prompt for April 1 to write a poem based on a work from the collection of New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art; I chose the Despondency vase by the Van Briggle Pottery Company.