Glass-Bound

by M. Joseph Boehler

holding a glass that catches the world's spill,

we see the glow we keep charged against our palms,

the habit we pretend is off.

our lives ripple with each ping;

a deep melancholy settles,

now churned by stones the world casts in.

signals pull attention outward, away,

a tug felt in the core of our being,

the vibration humming beneath the skin.

there is still space to lay that weight down,

to empty the glass,

if only for a breath.