my desperation isn’t quiet
but goes yowling straight through
to the other side of winter with her foot
pressed to the floor;
a seeping solace with every mile north until
she finds the cold that
numbs the hole in her chest,
hope in gaping oblivion;
kicks then
back feckless by the window at street level two
blocks above the flood line, exhaust-
stained plate glass a membrane
between art and the river which could
carry her away.
the tenth muse 
Simply beautiful. I so love the word feckless…it’s not utilized enough.
I swear that was going to be my comment, also!
I just love feckless.
This is a dark, beautiful piece.
exhaust-
stained plate glass a membrane
between art and the river which could
carry her away.
I love this. glass as membrane – the constancy of space and that which defines here from there.