DSQ > Spring 2008, Volume 28, No.2
Glass
The chemist calls me vitreous: neither
solid nor liquid, but amorphous,
glassy. An unstable state of matter.
Shards disturb my windpipe, shift uneasily
behind my sternum. Force
dissolves, along with sleep, and solace.
If I swallowed pints of tar and resin,
would I be preserved? Or would
decomposition creep from outside in?
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