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)
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