The plate didn't shatter

The plate didn't shatter.

It just gave up

with a dull thud against the steel basin.

One half stayed in my hand,

the other lay in the grey water

like a white moon sinking.

It’s a clean break, really.

No splinters to find in the rug later,

no blood on the thumb.

Just a sudden lack of tension

where the bond used to be.

We spent six years

waiting for the crash,

the shouting, the dramatic exit.

But it turns out the end

is just a quiet separation of parts

that no longer fit the curve.