Gwynne Garfinkle
falls away
it is difficult to assess what
a building may become
the rain that eats our cities
the damaging blue light
the failed glass slab
woke early
Tuesday morning
to camouflage the most
disturbing damage
a building may become
the milkiness of
retouched blank spaces
economic imp
earthquake history
& Monday night
evaporated
my head still rests
on pillow
a cloud of glass
we all were babies once
stealing from the dead
& living
between two uncertainties
brokenness
& completeness
the wheel
turned, sparks
glittered