Sides of House Glass

As during a warm up in January,
when nothingness of the snow melts
down into the cold silica of soil, but

sky remains clad with hollow spaces
between the spokes of an aluminum
wheel that falls off and on its axle,

both the eye and the stomach still
scratch along the scarcity of what
the world never has beyond itself.

See myself wear a ridiculous red coat

Out in the garage and instead of gloves,
A tightly laced pair of boots, as though
I was meant to be off somewhere on

A direction with an armload of tools.

The bisection of daytime house windows
can be funny, with that, depending upon
the side a person might stand. A quartz

Reflection of an opaque gravity upon
carried stones or that bucket of bolts
on the concrete-- hands riddled with callus,

Or plain refraction of clarity, transparent
and silent, through to a world untouchable
and complete when asked from ourselves.

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