when the vase hits the floor,
after moving the wobbled leg
of its stand, it misses
the corner of the thick
oriental rug and strikes
the floor with a thud.
it doesn't crack into pieces,
no shards, no corners or curves,
instead, it turns to dust.
a cloud rises like a small
bomb of ancient clay
in the dining room.
this makes her laugh and say
don't worry about it.
i'm going to Italy next month.
i'll get another one.
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