will, a fragile glass

which liquid life

escapes at

slightest tilt,

trembling hands

by which i

drink, tremble

at the fear

of thirst, her

sister laps up

running water,

eyes look down in

the wild stream.

i used to drink

with her.

clenched too hard,

the strongest

human vessel cracks,

spilling, wet with

tears of guilt.

the table bears

hardness and

puddles on which

i rest my hand

and close my eyes

to think of

baptism at the foot

of mountains