MY OFFER
Linda Delayen

I was running in slow motion
Unaware
When I saw in the distance 
a mirror.
As I turned in my flight 
to see my image
the mirror exploded into 
a thousand fiercely jagged pieces
each a reflection of different shape.
Is there a patient mender 
to be found?

If so, 
come with me
I am yours 
for seven years.

glass

She builds walls
in translucent shimmers of glass
invisible in the gaze
of a light conversation.
They shimmer
in the language of rainbows
seen only from the view
of romantics
who hope for reprieve.
Carving chasms from silence
she spans them briefly
with a gaze that can hold
or drop you so quickly, there's no time
to realize the plunge.

She builds walls
in transparent distortions
that mirror her views
sometimes yours,
invisibly melting the two into one
in mocking fantasy.
Drawn into shimmering proximity
her light touch can reveal
her spectrum of colors -
raw red irreversibly
drawn into radiant purple.
Realize, drowning,
that glass
is a patient liquid.