Preservation Poem

 

Preservation Poem

Removing everything from the china cabinet,
I found—among the long-stemmed champagne
flutes and the Swarovski crystal ornaments
and the cut glass bowls—the rough edge
of the elephant my nephew made in grade school—
palm-sized, unglazed, his fingerprints visible
where he pressed and molded, ivory as the tusks
he forgot to add. But the ears, the slope and droop
of them, and the hairline crack behind the eye
made me think of the real thing, those ponderous beasts
and the fragile state of their lives despite their size.

Amid all that delicate breakable glass and china,
the gilt-edged plates and scalloped edges, the lead
glass bowls and decanters, the silver tongs
for extracting pickles and capers, the dusty wedding
candle... it was this simple raw rendering
that made me slow down and take extra care,
to worry over what might break, the value
of things that could be lost. I closed the doors.
I left my fingerprints on the glass.