AS THOUGH SEALED IN A GLASS JAR

On a field in the mud something gives.

Bruce blew out his knee. He slipped and bent.

Lifeguards can identify

the injured because they’re holding themselves

instead of swimming. The surface seals over injury

and injured. It’s the water that kills.

During bathtub races, we’re never sure we’ll stay

afloat. Seawater comes in over the rim.

Sometimes it messes up our plans.

In my bathtub boat, I’m giving myself first aid.

If I reach the dock

I’ll puke seawater.

What comes out will look nothing like what went in.

I’ve thrown up in a lot of different places

in my life and I hate to think

I just had to leave it there. Because briefly

that part of the world was mine.

At the restaurant there’s a liqueur with a real pear

in the bottle. Bruce says they grow the pears within the glass.

When the doctor looked at Bruce he said

I’m going to give you a knee

better than the one God gave you.

There’s some kind of metal –

that metal was underground

and now it’s in there.

Bruce gets to carry it for a while.

The pear orchard yields beautiful

bottles. But we’ve forgotten to

account for wind. In a storm

the glass breaks. Around the tree,

there’s a ring of shards

we can’t cross over.