Like glass, once

By Robin Long

Like glass, once,
that placid surface reacts— 
acts as a mirror of the night sky
or a sunrise snapshot.
 
a capture of the status of life
she is daily witness to the superficial
 
the reeds—weeds rising from the earth beneath
track and line the trampled, mottled pathways
around her
 
but the sweet center—tender victim of any tremor— 
speaks in long-releasing ripples that spread,
swell, and blur the tension
in lift, in hit, in change
 
when sinking below breathing
her shapes move in fluid ruins
locked to a forgotten floor of fallen matter
grown over with begged-for distortion.
 
A dulled edge means dulled remembrance
 
but in her best dress of morning mist
she forgives the violence, the mess
her quiet calm an elegy
for whatever is— 
existence, now 

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Robin Long is a queer poet, writer, and writing professor in Austin, Texas. Her poetry can be found or is forthcoming in American Writer’s Review by San Fedele Press, the 2021 Texas Poetry Calendar by Kallisto Gaia Press, Alexandria Quarterly, FEELS Zine, Twist in Time, 8 Poems, Literary Yard, and 45 Magazine. She is currently expanding her fiction thesis on the life of Emily Dickinson, The Other Dickinson; she can be found at theotherdickinson.com or on social media as @theotherdickinson.