What the Glass Holds - by Jill Jones

ISLAND | ISSUE 157

The shape of the glass
is not the same
as what the glass holds.

The shape of the water
is infinite pleasure
inside bodies
and around them.

The shape of the glass
reminds me of the night
you first arrived.

The shape curves
in my hand.

The glass is the shape
of morning and night.

The glass reflects
the green and yellow light
from the garden
and the water there
in the air and
the ground.

The water tastes of all
and nothing, of its
internal bonds, of
where it’s been.

The shape of the glass
may one day break.
Water may break.
We will too, into our
water, air and ground.
Today is every day
until then.

I drink to all that.
To what the glass holds.
And what it doesn’t. ▼

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This poem appeared in Island 157 in 2019. Order a print issue here.

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