Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Kazue Shinkawa

The Transparent Glass

Though the water rises above its rim
swallows one dime . . .
two dimes . . . and three

and you think this time it’ll spill over
but it doesn’t,
the water remaining tense.

I, too, had days I filled up like this
with thoughts of someone,
remaining tense.

Why doesn’t the glass break?
In those days I did
break . . . in the end.

THE TRANSPARENT GLASS

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The Transparent Glass

Though the water rises above its rim
swallows one dime . . .
two dimes . . . and three

and you think this time it’ll spill over
but it doesn’t,
the water remaining tense.

I, too, had days I filled up like this
with thoughts of someone,
remaining tense.

Why doesn’t the glass break?
In those days I did
break . . . in the end.

The Transparent Glass

Though the water rises above its rim
swallows one dime . . .
two dimes . . . and three

and you think this time it’ll spill over
but it doesn’t,
the water remaining tense.

I, too, had days I filled up like this
with thoughts of someone,
remaining tense.

Why doesn’t the glass break?
In those days I did
break . . . in the end.
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