replacing the broken vase

i try to glue the old

vase back together,

a blue floral thing on

white, fired

in a kiln a century ago,

bought in Italy.

i hold it under a bright

light and carefully

put the pieces in place,

like a puzzle.

the edges

though, are crumbling,

dirt and dust,

the ravages

of time and air keeps

it fragile.

no sooner than i'm done,

and set it back on the sill

by the window.

i hear the crash.

i can't just go to Target

for a new one.

Italy, here i come.