Why must glass imagined by the wayward few
draw borders over lives bleeding out...
I’m sitting here across streets and snowdrifts
watching for a signal out of this haunted night
when maybe I should be out there, listening...
Between fountains of light a well of darkness,
nightfall pouring into abyssal depths...
Maybe we’ll dream of a world together,
in sleep of unending solitude,
of a day when the morning sun awakens us...
Behind a door closed to keep the night at bay
Voices talk of quiet places where the air is haunted
Where moments stay forever
And the floorboards whisper the secrets of ghosts...
The crystal explosion of light
Silent and still behind glass
Its face to the street
Gazing at its own reflection
There is a ghost in the corner who longs to smash it