BROKEN GLASS

In-the-out-door and
out-the-in-door.
How many times will she
get hit in the face with
the automatic door before she
learns-the-rules? Ever
see her? She's the one
with the broken nose
laughing at the wrong time
in the ampitheater.
At four years old, she
ran so fast across her mother's
kitchen that her hand
went through the window
with the impact. You
will know her on sight: her
scars are flowers in disguise.
Her occupation is building
cities out of broken glass. Her
courage is what keeps the doors
opening and closing against
the wind.

Comment: Broken Glass, which first appeared in Aphra was my first published poem. I can still remember how I felt when the package arrived containing my contributor's copies. I was so excited I had to wait a full five minutes before I opened it.

Oh yes, and after all these years, I'm still going out the in door.