in a glass dream

color of dusk
color of glass

menagerie of a dream
menagerie of silence,

cleared her throat by swallowing a
reflection scraped off of glass

cracked clay tint,

wrote it down in her diary,
sealed it with wax

and nostalgia;

climbed into a garden, smelled 
dead flowers

drank the scent,

followed a bee, squeezed honey into
old tea and lemon

opened a book dazed by a still breeze
and light scurrying 

through empty pages

in a pond, saw herself drowning, picked
up a stone, dropped it in

hand reached out, struggling for a 

damp footprints through a rusted
garden gate,

her hair and dress were wet with exhaustion,
longed to climb into rest;

in a tree, breaking of aged branches, scream
for HELP! 

landing in brittle autumn leaves, a little girl in
tomboy clothes,

wearing skinned knees and bruised ponytails;

on a swing with hemp holding onto suspended
air, she sits

fiance’s hand stroking beauty
stroking her soul,

a turn of her head with blue eyes sees him
disappear, on worn earth, a letter

a careless wind carries it to a cemetery 

she walks in solitude and tears, 
death tugs at her clothing

then, chokes her skin,
chokes her emotions;

eyes in glass,
glass splinters

cracks run down her face like pouring
rain running 

down bicycle spokes

she turns black and gray, her reflection
pushes back 

onto cold ground,

inside, wrenching of hands, fingernails
dig into palms

like an ash and bent metal shovel
into a grave,

slips her fingers through glass into

on a table, old tea and lemon.

Copyright © 06/12/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®



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