On the beach, somewhat distant but still within sight of that croquet wicket, is a piece of pottery sticking up out of the sand. It’s one piece from a broken ceramic plate.
It has one very sharply pointed edge.
That point would cut.
Not neatly, though, like a well-sharpened knife. It would cut raggedly, painfully, but deeply, should anyone’s flesh run across it.
It could do great damage to a foot, should someone come walking by and not see it.
It could do great damage to a hand that might cling it.
…to a heart.
It came from a church service. It’s embedded in the sand, with its nasty point upward toward the sky (South side?), for this entire week.