A Poem

by Joni Abilene

If I am glass

and all my transparencies float

through your dining hall and smoke-filled selections

with hair lingering white, or steelish gray or falling out in tufts and bundles

and my blood is ash

dead and billowing

or ice

or some sort of substance that isn’t

and you hold her

and you two waltz

maybe a threesome to match the beat

three people waltzing through

the fog

the mist

the nothingness

that is something, but isn’t

still isn’t

and the cracks that ripple

the cracks that tear

that pierce feet, that send shivers through souls

that reach into synapses and digs

and shocks

and the threesome pulls away into a rift

that drifts

that rift reaching, screaming

please get me

see me

but there’s too much smoke

and I am glass

and this dust that is my blood

will always grit inside your eyelids

and make you cry