Oct 19

Cracked Glasses

Cracked glasses
I would not survive the war
Cracked glasses
The world should shimmer and shake around me and seem like stars falling to struck eyes
Cracked glasses
And as the bronze rained down I shall never forget the sound of rain on tin rooftops to gather in hands of children
Cracked glasses
The neon orange life-boats on oceans leading to worlds away where they will rest under the sea and no one above will know
Cracked glasses
And as carpets stop wearing from feet and start from soot and mold I see the jungle in sidewalk cracks with blurred boundaries
Cracked glasses 
Day 44 of granola bars and as they crack in my hands I swear I hear melodies from wheat that knew sunlight once
Cracked glasses
The pharmacies have run dry and now the fish are decomposing but if expired insulin had graveyards I would know many a ghost
Cracked glasses
The irises have leeched to grey and the world has gone from vibrant to dust in a moment but I remember when trees had leaves
Cracked glasses
Rocks spring from the ground and trip worn feet like leather satchels falling to the ground and I slow like how buffalo died out
Cracked glasses
Gravestones no more just little mementos found like a broken blue china tile or a memory captured in stained glass
Empty Frames
Gone and now wire pins bone down so they remember where to sit and pray 
Wire Gone
And now the moss is gone back to grey and a childs hands wrap around the spirit of rumpled frames to distract from the faint green snow
And the skeletons can see finally because they are free
Of cracked glasses