Teach me again how to hold glass. I have forgotten the gentle touch of your words.
Remind me how glass is like a river, how to slide the cutter along the line we've made together, having measured twice.
Hold my hand pressing teach me how to hold how hard to press to feel the snap tap hear the glass run ring along the line.
My windows need repair. Let's remove old putty from the pane, save the glazing points, slide the new piece into place, putty it in with our fingers, even it out with our knives.
Teach me, teach me now, to sing to the glass of day, to carry each movement, steady, you holding me holding the glass cutter the first time.
Say, again, No need to worry, it's always practice, we have more glass. And say, There, as you always said. And say, Hold steady, as we break the first glass together, place it in the pane. Hold it right there, you say, I'll be right back. I'll get the points and the putty.
Oh Grandpa, Glazier of my Heart, teach me again and again how to hold the light, how to carry the glass of the day. You, our worker of doors and windows, polisher of light, fixer of the cold night. Smile again, talk softly, to me, to only me. Call me your Little Carpenter, call me Grandson Glazier, and Fellow Fixer.
Show me again how to measure, how to cut, how to place, how to press the points, to putty, to hold the knife. I am broken.
CX Dillhunt
