In the ground a fragment of glass - ghazal

In the ground a fragment of glass, curved, blue, like a cup

In the mirror an angle of cheek I can see right through, like a cup

In the heat looking anywhere, everywhere, breathing

Reaching for sky, air, ice, like a prayer that flew, like a cup

On the wall a thick flat blue Madonna and child

He ignoring her white round breast, firm and new, like a cup

In my thirst crooking hands to catch trickles of anything wet

To capture the least hint of lingering dew, like a cup

Everywhere I look are the bowl-shaped curves, mocking drought

Collecting and pooling my bitter dry kisses for you, like a cup.