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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