The Inner Life of Glass

 

A pregnant punk in a

yellow dress strokes her

straight-edge belly and

stares out the window.

 

There are grains inside that

could tell her. An invisible

history. A lawn and a

guitar player.

 

She hates the men by

the magazine stand who

wear the army camouflage

vests. They want everything

for free and pull out her

brushfire hair.

 

The streets echo into her

apartment. The stones

sigh to the grains in her

cerebellum.

 

Johanne LePage