Glass
Words of a poem should be glass
But glass so simple-subtle its shape
is nothing the shape of what it holds.
A glass spun for itself is empty,
Brittle, as best Venetian trinket.
Embossed glass hides the poem
of its absence.
Words should be looked through,
should be windows.
The best word were invisible.
The poem is thing the poet thinks.
If the impossible were not,
And if the glass, only the glass,
Could be removed, the poem would
remain.
