She reads to me
of the stupidity of once upon a time
when the world believed windows flowed
swallow her incredulity
bloody scrape of then against now
pane of memory’s oblique distortion
behind watery lens
stand at the kitchen sink
as rain falls
when glass was liquid
and bitterness etched
its whorled claim
on the curves
13 thoughts on “when glass was liquid”
AH. Thank you.
Hmm … I’ve approved.
Please don’t be spam.
Thank you in advance for your cooperation.
I’m not spam silly. :)
just appreciative with not many words today
My filters are set to pull aside comments from email addresses that are new to me and this website. Sometimes, spam comes to me from names I recognize, which is annoying, because I know that person doesn’t want me to buy discount handbags. The email address you used was new to me, and so you got pulled out for approval, where your few words weren’t enough for me to be absolutely certain you were you.
I am so pleased you are YOU and that you have been here to read.
Thank you for not explaining your poetry. Contented sighs.
You make me smile … thank you.
Love the eventual flame. And also the beauty, acknowlegement of old.
Grinding then later fire is used to make glass. Huh.
Progression can be a weird thing.
It can indeed … progression, that is.
“When glass was liquid” bends my mind in so many directions.
Thank you, Renee.
It pleases me to imagine that.
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