glass

The glass dish that belonged to my grandmother

exploded when I poured cold batter into it

to make goddamn toad in the hole for dinner

I say exploded, but it made the faintest sound and

suddenly there, on the table, a mess of broken glass

and dripping batter and blistered sausages

I know what happens when you pour cold into hot

I had read about exploding bakewear so many times

and yet, it just never occurred to me tonight

And so, a new batch of batter whisked and poured into a different dish

and placed in the oven

I sat on my bed, trying not to cry

thinking about how unkind life had been lately

taking and taking and taking

giving too, but mostly, taking

and I thought, 'One more bad card dealt

and I will be done. Just done.'

And then I thought about how I'd thought this very same thing

a few weeks ago

but so many bad things had happened since

and here I was, still.

They talked about resilience and perseverance and strength

when I had to put on a brave face and pretend everything was fine

and I would think about how it had

nothing to do with bravery

we got through one bad day after another

not because we wanted to

or still had some fight left in us but because

we had to.

You know, it never occurred to me but when things between us died down

an inevitability given the one-sided-ness of our feelings

I expected the end to be dramatic and explosive and loud

but it wasn't. It was so underwhelming

almost like it didn't even happen

everything seemed fine one minute

and the next,

it was all gone.