All Flesh is
When the glass shattered over my desk,
Little cubes pitted my laptop, settled
Anjle-deep on the rug. Silicon dust flew inside
And outside my clothes: I tasted it on my lips.
I swept and i dusted, bore off a ton of fragments,
The heart of each piece milkly blue in the light –
O alchemy of self- cleanness and therms.
I breathed glass, it setlled in my hair.
I felt fine grit in my sheets that night,
In my sleep, and out of it, when I stirred.
I woke up to bare sky over my books,
My flesh was glass, i spoke in little clicks
And chinks, and my transparent self
Went about its business all that day, the usual