new rule

fall toward the glassblower's breath
It’s the old rule that drunks
have to argue
and get into fights.
The lover is just as bad:
he falls into a hole.
But down in that hole he finds
something shining,
worth more than any amount
of money or power.
Last night the moon came
dropping her clothes
in the street.
I took it as a sign to start singing,
falling up into the bowl of sky.
The bowl breaks.
Everywhere is falling
everywhere.

Nothing else to do.

Here’s the new rule:
break the wineglass, and
fall toward the glassblower’s
breath.

Rumi