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 the core behind my eye my socket
in my pocket
reach to throw it all away
can’t even reach the seventh day
the seventh son
my seventh one named Babylon,
my one-night stand with Heaven
my love, my
can’t stand it, wearing glasses.