Virgule

A seam that joins
the broken

lines. In ancient Greece
the host would snap in two

a tablet of clay and hand one
half to his guest.

Something to do with Zeus
dividing the first humans,

leaving them to wander, forever
in search of their missing

half. In the art of kintsugi a broken
bowl can still be

beautiful. The fragments are glued
using lacquer dusted with powder

gold. Once, at a dinner party,
my friend knocked down

a martini glass. We threw
away the crystal shards.

For most what is
broken is

useless.

William G. Gillespie lives in Brooklyn, NY. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Shore, Volume Poetry, Rust + Moth, and Eunoia Review, among others.