poem de Jo Shappckot

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


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