I once had a dream
of beautiful, porcelain china
China: not the condescending plastic
or the thick, clumsy clay
that people serve to you when you’re just
.
someone

I had a dream of China
the sort that’s kept in the back of a cabinet
wrapped in layers and layers of thin silk
sleeping in beds of tissues and sponge
the sort that has to be lifted out of its protection
with a held breath and a thumping heart

You could have been that China
but you were so honest, so true
so open
so willing (enough to make me cringe)
you came whenever, wherever
to whomever

I wanted to keep that China
wrapped in the protective sleep of dreaming
I could not
could not
Let you fling yourself on the floor
(Oh, no, because porcelain breaks easy)

And so I keep my China
at the back, in a corner
on the highest shelf
in a cupboard with a key I’ve lost
.
and you wondered
why I looked away last night