Contributor: John Grey

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The shard of pottery holds the answer.
Or could it be the splinter of glass.
They linger after the lifetimes,
are buried looser and nearer
than bones.

Just dig in the soil a little
or get down on your knees,
peek behind the refrigerator.
Look, there’s something in the garden,
glinting from moonlight.

They have stories to tell,
of your ghosts,
back when they were living.

So listen in with your fingers,
feel the sharpness,
the finish, the lightness;
a fragment of utility,
a whole of majesty.


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John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in That, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.