|
| glass |
| She builds walls |
| in translucent shimmers of glass |
| invisible in the gaze |
| of a light conversation. |
| They shimmer |
| in the language of rainbows |
| seen only from the view |
| of romantics |
| who hope for reprieve. |
| Carving chasms from silence |
| she spans them briefly |
| with a gaze that can hold |
| or drop you so quickly, there's no time |
| to realize the plunge. |
| She builds walls |
| in transparent distortions |
| that mirror her views |
| sometimes yours, |
| invisibly melting the two into one |
| in mocking fantasy. |
| Drawn into shimmering proximity |
| her light touch can reveal |
| her spectrum of colors - |
| raw red irreversibly |
| drawn into radiant purple. |
| Realize, drowning, |
| that glass |
| is a patient liquid. |
| © Jon Bohrn (2000) |
