Glasses by Russell Gordon

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

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

all-seeing eye

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

shatter.

stand tall and bare faced

a flood of ichor in the veins

dammed

damned

so cold and mortal… no more

please

I,

a trapeze in a glass house’s ceiling

gasping for empty tear-sacs in vain

the trap is the apple…

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