House of Glass

September 25, 2011
Last night I dreamed we had a house of glass
with glass curtains on the windows
and glass lemons in the bowl
and we lay down on the floor and looked up at the sky
and the bellies of the birds
through the roof
and when it rained the world was
watercolors dripping down my canvas
and every morning you made me glass eggs
in a glass pan
on the glass stove.
The piano was made of glass too, and sometimes
you would light it on fire
and play for me,
while I sang and tried not to sound
as fragile as the house.
But one day you asked me,
if I saw that crack
just there, above the door and
I said yes,
yes, our house is no good anymore.
So that night we woke the world
by smashing it to bits
and you blew the dust off my eyelashes
and told me not to cry,
because,
what did I expect?
We were just playing pretend in a house made of glass,
of course it had to break.





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