Sarah Law

A Glass Full

Thérèse, aged six, sits at the table.
Her legs swing under the wooden chair.

She is troubled by God’s grace,
and how one can be full of Him

yet smaller than a doll’s house. How
can it be fair, when some are saints,

but most are limited sinners?
In her hand, a white-petaled aster

warms and thins against her skin.
Pauline lifts a jug of water,

is teacher and mother, and pours
cool blessing into cup and tumbler;

liquid shimmers at the brim of each.
And which is fuller? Both, she answers,

unpeeling the flower from her palm
and slipping it into the smaller vessel,

where it settles in its little pool
as she wipes a spilled droplet away.