Light as a feather
of the frailest sparrow,
held in the strongest of hands.
Hollows along the bottom
so small
you can feel them only
with your eyes.
Looks rough
but smooth
to the touch,
the tip of my fingers.
Dark black
overlapped
with silvery swirls,
rusted and dented and bent.
Small slice of glass
used to amplify
tales in a tongue
I still don't understand.
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