Glass with Memory

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lamp

 

Glass with Memory

When I remember you
glass comes to mind,
but nothing so transparent
as an unclothed thought

or warmth trickling in
through the pipes or
under the haze of
the second night’s sheet,

no two alike except
in appearance, but under
the lamp’s unconscious glare
I find warmth spreading

across the hard surface,
telling me all is
not lost, that smoothness
persists beyond our reflection.

glass

37 thoughts on “Glass with Memory”

  2. I will be duly wigging-out over the masterful way you’ve turned the “unclothed thought” (and all of its implications) on its ear with this piece. As I was long ago dubbed “die Goettin der Wahrheit” (goddess of truth) by my advisor in grad school, ostensibly in recognition of my unrivaled transparent nature, I have often pondered the extent to which the condition of being who and how I am promotes utility and/or dysfunction (notwithstanding the way people generally laud the desirability of plain-spokenness — but only until said fashionable trait no longer lives in the realm of the theoretical, but rather has now moved into their houses, turned on all the lights, and started redecorating).

    There is definitely much to be said for leaving something to the imagination every now and then…

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