glass doors are between us


paned air


it’s everything

it’s nothing



wraps itself

around you


I mime

touching you

touching air


our gowns

are glass skins

brittle skins

second skins


we touch


play chess with our tensions


glass doors

no handles

no seams

no way out

no way in


me here

you there




This spare, slightly bleak poem is, I would have to admit, revealing about me. More so, perhaps than any other I wrote (and more so than this postscript!). It wasn’t something I was aware of at the time I wrote it, but I was definitely describing something that I later came to know about myself. More than one other person has used the exactly the same metaphor, of being trapped behind an invisible, seemingly impermeable barrier, to describe the same thing knowingly, that I did unknowingly in ‘Glass Doors’. Maybe there’s more for me to say about this on other pages, in other places, but that’s where I’ll leave it for here and for now…