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Grape Glass
by
Jeri Thompson


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They sat on a high shelf just out of reach
of my small clumsy hands.
Eight purple glasses and matching pitcher
shaped like bunched grapes.
The glasses were never used;
Mom valued them beyond their worth.

As an adult on a visit to my mother,
she brought out the cherished goblets. She served
iced tea and asked me to
claim what I wanted of hers
(not wanting cherished goods being sold
in some local garage sale).

I should have read between those lines.
I didnít.

Today, in a vintage store window,
I see one lone grape glass.
I remember my momís valued set
purple and bubbly like a bunch of grapes,
now forever out of reach
of my big clumsy hands.


This poem first appeared in the Chiron Review (Summer 2016).
Used here with permission.



Jeri Thompson lives in Southern California, where, while quarantining, she has spent a lot of time watching movies from the 1930s and '40s with her two cats, Willa and Daisy. Jeri enjoys collecting poetry chapbooks, especially those of local poets.


Post New Comment:
BAMars:
I remember reading this before and it takes on even more meaning now. Beautiful, Jeri.
Posted 05/05/2021 12:31 AM
Anastasia:
Ouch. You've captured this feeling so well.
Posted 05/04/2021 12:45 PM
jmcadam:
Poignant.
Posted 05/03/2021 08:19 PM
Lori Levy:
Love the way the purple glasses are used to express something deeper.
Posted 05/03/2021 03:15 PM
bobbi43sml@aol.com:
Lovely reminder to me of a very similar happening - I found a set of blue glass "bubble wear" in my mother's yard sale ( luckily before she opened the garage ) and said "You can't sell those, they were your 1st Thanksgiving dishes " I want to keep them..... so I did.
Posted 05/03/2021 12:01 PM
peninsulapoet:
Beautiful poem, Jeri.
Posted 05/03/2021 12:00 PM
paradea:
Lovely poem, but 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' can make us crazy.
Posted 05/03/2021 09:22 AM
wordartdjc:
My heart goes out to Jen as I read this lovely poem. That 'grape bottle' and one matching glass are now in my curio cabinet. It was my mother-in-law's and I think of her when I view it. Such are the blessed memories.
Posted 05/03/2021 09:07 AM
Jccjccac@aol.com:
I love this poem. Once they are gone, there is so much out of reach.
Posted 05/03/2021 07:12 AM


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