Sunday, May 29, 2011

NEW POEM

(glass bricks, photo by Margot Williams)


PARISON



They say glass is a liquid

that’s moving very slowly

Too slow for human notice

But after a century or two

a wave piles up at the base

of window panes. We live

as if we are immortal but

fear that love will sputter out.

No, what is true: We are dying

as slowly as glass pours down

the mirrors where we study

our own haunted reflections

but how I love you (yes that face)

will never shatter or die.



© Maggie Jochild 12:06 am, 29 May 2011

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