can’t stand wearing glasses.
locked eyes with you
so securely fastened, rustproof
but it’s the glass that meets your gaze
as does light, wind or dust—I pass through.
a glass roof and ceiling, sealing from the elements
of a storm
a distance afar apart away a way around long ago
ignore the past a doorway.
adore the present you threw me into when you
cut me in two after you crawled through the whole and you
made me a spectacle
made me some spectacles
fashionably fashioned from some old bones you
found at a zoo.
I crawl through, shuddering, drawing the shutters
soundproof windows to the soul
stand tall and bare faced
a flood of ichor in the veins
so cold and mortal… no more
a trapeze in a glass house’s ceiling
gasping for empty tear-sacs in vain
the trap is the apple…
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