Two of Cups

to Constance Plumley

Things that are broken sometimes fit together

without the chinks, the overlaps

that wear down the rougher edges,

leave us with another simple shear

here, a new spiderweb fracture there.

We searched for decades

until our fingerprints slid

into each others’ loops and whorls,

our lips met and we felt

all those edges click

into place, two fragile pieces

that make one solid pillar.