Makeover for a Kahn Masterpiece
Where starlight consecrates a sky,
stairwells and sheetrock load the silence
in order to sleep a little. While asleep,
it's hard to tell if we fail our surfaces,
or whether the heart is just another flexible
material. Whether a flower produces
a faith in flowers, or in you, we might
agree that every April culls its soreness
from rough, oblique geometries. Then
like prayer, we exert our letters against
that skeletal blueprint: Dear condensation,
I will not notice you. Love, a name.
In your language, starved moths see
particularly well. A late-night train
in Penn Station makes the bluebell
seem dangerously beautiful. Collapse
(without asking), and rise again. Resist me
quietly as I step over your waiting form.
Scott Glassman is the author of the chapbook "Exertions" and has published poems in the Iowa Review, South Carolina Review, CutBank, and elsewhere. He keeps a poetry blog at http://scottglassman.blogspot.com.