Current
Issue
Volume 12.2
Angie Macri
—
Resonance
They found the springs of sand
and were thankful
for the water in the grains
akin to crystal.
The rest of this land
hadn’t been as welcoming,
hardpan, shale, saline.
Some women carried goblets
from a long-ago wedding,
but those broke in time.
Then the children got to work
dulling the edges on fieldstone
so the shards wouldn’t cut
anyone’s fingers. Their mothers
found the smoothed fragments
back in their pockets.
As they drank at the spring
from their hands, they passed
around stories: how a glass had given
a tone if you circled
a wet fingertip around its rim,
how you could get different notes
with different levels of liquid
depending on the thickness,
how some houses once had cabinets
full of such pieces, often with stems
as if from a garden and blooming.
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