Watch the glasssblower
spin my sanity thin.
See my knees go weak.
Strange, that man
works on my head
in daytime nightmares
of panic mirage.
Thus cut, now tinkling
in air-conditioned breeze
my Chinese windchimes
balance
trembles in fragile fear
of a goat to come
rushing in
crushing
no tin-can in his terror teeth
comes bucking
shattering
masticating (glass) me.
© 2010 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com
Photo Credit: Forming the Glass © Ahmet Ihsan Ariturk Dreamstime.com
Author's Note: The Glass Blower and the Goat is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which begin with Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and end with No Cry but a Quicksand.
Author's Note: The Glass Blower and the Goat is part of a three-poem trilogy I call The Sanity Poems, which begin with Today I Saran Wrapped My Sanity and end with No Cry but a Quicksand.
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