Glass World

Careful darling,
step light.
You’re walking on a sea of things easily broken;
china pavement and colored sugar glass.
The slightest bit of pressure and it might all fall away.

When you hum here
the ground picks up the vibrations
and the louder your song
the more violently everything shakes
beneath carefully-placed toes.

What lives beneath those lucent panels,
swims in those hurried currents.
From what direction comes the wind
that hurls itself at your back
screaming, “Go, go,”
as you peer over at what might as soon become a ledge
as your next landing place.

It’s a quiet world.
The rain needs only drop once
and the echo resounds
like a thousand storms.
The clouds are made of thin stuff
which is for the best
since every shiver of a breeze
or particle of snow
wears away so slightly
at a paper-thin floor,
held together with resin
and sheer force of will.

Don’t let it break,

don’t let it break,

don’t let yourself careen into that pool below
of unknown substance
if it even is a pool
and not a sheer drop,
nothing but air
for miles and miles down.


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