We look through
our reflection
in the window
to see the world
once I read glass
never quite solidifies
so old windows seem
to ripple like water
his hands bleed
from the fragments
of glass scattered
now across the floor
I place my hands
upon the pane
the sun’s warmth
washes through me
outside of the house
defined separate
by the questionable
solidity of glass
I grow into
what I see
in the bisecting
window frames
heading home late
he imagines seeing her
through the window move
like curtains in a breeze
she sees him in the window
waves in happy expectation
he steps back stirred
as if by a soft wind
from the outside edge
a spider weaves her net
across the sill whispering
jump my love jump
the clunking brutality
of a chunked brick
shatters the charmed
safety of the window’s light
in spring an open
window airs out
stale winter
gathered like dust
(June 2012)

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.