glass doors are between us

planes

paned air

 

it’s everything

it’s nothing

 

glass

wraps itself

around you

 

I mime

touching you

touching air

 

our gowns

are glass skins

brittle skins

second skins

 

we touch

bare

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…

Advertisements