I threw a brick wall through a window
and inside the wall
was a woman, sculpted of ivory iron
carved into tears of weeping working
hands
that themselves had sighed for
arms
these too etched in a pale silver did
you or did you notice the curve
of the shards of glass of the wall
working through their falling?
Over my reflection in the falling glass
was the letter S. It too was weeping.
It too was ready for more. It too
landed on a wind that shook us
took us to the other side of the store
where the brick met the wall
and the woman cried from her
prison to join us, while her hands
made the journey alone.
It was the sidewalk who first made to speak,
said this is a love song, and while we waited
it yawned, and we could see the valleys inside
that stretched and stretched until
the teeth snapped shut. We fell skyward on
the wind. My
hand
was a cloud and I
hung
beneath it
like a wind-clean curtain. There were voices
clutching at my toes, crawling like letters
with their stinging serifs and their
garamond architecture.
Did you notice? The woman – she was the
letter S. Did you see her through the teeth
of the sidewalk, sliding through valleys. My
other hand was a signal and I began to break
up. You might have seen her touch her forehead
where raindrops fell in morse, the meaningless
chatter of gossiping clouds, and she looked for me.
This is a love song, said the sidewalk to the officer
whose legs were trapped in the wall, the magic having
worn itself out. The officer was filled with remorse.
His legs were filled with brick.
My feet were neutrons.
I exploded just long enough
to see.