A glass

I raise a glass filled with water

may the shine reflect on someone’s eye

and may the trepidation for an impeding lover

be stopped by a gesture of mine.

 

I knit together treads of my hair

in a pattern of a silver spider web

so dew that clings to it

slips down to a glass.

 

I raise the glass again,

form your face out of smoke,

I think of how miserable you are

and that in this war I have won.

 

I narrow big circles

the blue leaks out as yolk does

I add to dreams the missing color

come with me, let us not see,

together.

 

I am the post of my own glass

and I dedicate a monument to it

in a a petrified posture

a figurine from a fountain

that only gives birth to tears.

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