Sunday

05012011

in this white
and silent space
i sometimes hear
the vibrant thud
of heavy stone
the tinkling
of shattering glass
thin and vulnerable
and confused
rocks hurled
to break
life
blood
bone

but i do not shudder
and i do not fall

for the light shines
naked and bright

and after all

we are all
(aren’t we?)
porcelain dolls
living
in glass houses