Heritage, v2

I am back to saying out loud,
nothing is ever one thing—
that in itself a contradiction,
because any time you use 
something finite, 
something else is singular, 
something stands alone.

Let’s say everything 
is ambivalence, everything  
a contrary mix of grapes, 
compensatory salt, 
and sweetener, the confusion 
of living surprise, love,
disappointment, utter 
joy and complete devastation—

cocktails of grief and giddiness 
in a vessel blown from glass,
handed to us by strangers
wondering if we’ll drop it. 


Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, copyright June 12, 2024, all rights reserved 
This version was extracted from my original poem found here.