The bowl was old (Premature Balding),
One of the few ceramics left in the family
of newer, thinner polymers (Contraction
of a Fatal Disease). My mother’s hands
were still wet as she turned from the sink to look
at the television (an Unrepairable Rift).
I saw as the bowl popped from between her fingers
like a slick balloon (Impending Pregnancy
of a Daughter) and how quickly her mouth
dropped like the bowl (Blindness in One Eye).
And what was strangest, I saw the age-slowed swipe
of my grandfather’s arm as he tried to grab
the falling dish from midair (Loss
of a Loved One) and how even though he missed,
and the bowl hit the kitchen floor but didn’t break
(a False Premonition ) his relief echoed back
from my mother. For days, I asked (an Unavoidable
Miscommunication) what could have happened
if the bowl had broken, but neither would say.
Originally from North Carolina, Monet P. Thomas is currently an MFA Candidate at Eastern Washington University in Spokane, Washingon. But don’t let that fool you – she doesn’t know what she’s doing. When she’s not working at her part-time job at Sears, or going to class, or eating french fries for dinner, or reading free romance e-books, or tweeting about all of the above (@monetwithlove), Monet can be found in bed texting poems on her Blackberry. She writes for the Willow Spring’s blog, Bark to provide proof for friends and family that she really is doing something with her life.