The day before our brother died,
my sister and I blew glass.
It was so cold that day
and only warm by the fire.
It was in that warmth and fire
where we transformed
individual grains of glass
into swirls of light and color.
The plain glass melting with the color-
heating to liquid orange
and then cooling into something different.
Something beautiful.
I wish we had known it was your last day.
I don’t know if it would have changed anything but I know that
when I think of transformations by fire,
I think of you and that cold day
where we made fragile beautiful things.
blue sky infinite 