Glas Wen
ALEXIS WALLER A glass wren resides in the nest of my mother’s drawers Red velvet lining for sticks and pearls for eyes
Time does not exist for those kept within the confines of your mother’s drawers
And what of you with jail cells made of stone? With your songs seeped red and your smile bleeding blue? What of you then? I must think of my mother’s glass wren with its sanded wings made terribly thin they cannot fly but They can bite Yet they shatter at a drop, at the sound of a pin against the floorboards So they must never see the floor
sky?
of the
And what
POETRY
13
Especially not the birds but what Would you know of cages made of gold?
