Read more poems by Jared Carter: Jared Carter Poems at Poetry X.
It takes a long, smooth stroke practiced carefully over many years and made with one steady motion. You do not really cut glass, you score its length with a sharp, revolving wheel at the end of a tool not much bigger than a pen-knife. Glass is liquid, sleeping. The line you make goes through the sheet like a wave through water, or a voice calling in a dream, but calling only once. If the glazier knows how to work without hesitation, glass begins to remember. Watch now how he draws the line and taps the edge: the pieces break apart like a book opened to a favorite passage. Each time, what he finds is something already there. In its waking state glass was fire once, and brightness; all that becomes clear when you hold up the new pane.
Added: 20 May 2003 | Last Read: 24 Mar 2017 8:05 AM | Viewed: 7395 times
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