Quiggins

Quiggins

i rinsed years' residue from their innards, knowing
they will hover more closely to the edge of opaque
when juxtaposed with her work-roughened
hands. the five of six that cleared airport security,
the anthrax scare, and the atlantic
will complement her hardened fingers
and far-past-dainty digits
when she uncupboards them
on special occasions, to impress visitors,
to heighten the memorable feel of an average
holiday. she will not treat them as they
ought to be treated-teacups rescued
from a hodgepodge antique shop
tucked into Liverpool's tummy.
teacups delighted to be of use again,
despite their saucerless status.
she will not treat them as everyday
simply because they have survived,
have refused to crumple
like the thin shells of porcelain turtles
when pounded under piles of pressure.
she will handle them reverently,
blind to the sight of herself shining
in purple and gold--thinbright strength
of aging above antiquity
and resilency despite a dusty shelf.