Glass Flowers

I

I would bring the glass flowers to the broken marriages

Because of their flowering time, the once and for all

Hard petals, cups and saucers from a doll's house,

The imaginary roots that grow into the table.

II

The glass iron cooling in your hand will double as

A darning last, a curve of light beneath the holes:

Let me rock along the seams with it before your

Breath condenses on heels and elbows made of glass.

Michael Longley, Gorse Fires, Cape Poetry, 2009.