Glass Girl

When I was younger, and stupider even than now,
I loved a glass girl.

The curve of her was the best curve,
and she never changed--could not change.

My friends said,
she was easy to talk to--
her mouth open all the time;
but they also said
she's somehow hard
somehow cold
and they were right.

I am a water girl,
as impermanent as a womb, a flood, or sweat on skin.
She told me, "I am empty; it all comes from you.
I refract your light, then send it back."

I am a water girl, 
she was a glass girl;
I could not maintain unless she held me,
and so she was, as I knew she was, exactly what I needed
when I was younger, and stupider even than now.

I miss her,
even knowing how hard, how cold.
She told me, "Fuck what anybody says or thinks. We are what we are."
Her black hair hung down and there we were
meeting on a borderline--
The deep. The stars.

I offer this for the audio; the video portion has nothing to do with anything.



Sioux Roslawski said…
The deep. The stars. Sweat on skin.

What a powerful poem (as always) and thanks for the song to start off my morning...
hedgewitch said…
The search for love is indeed the search for that shape which will contain our own essence, that external hardness that gives our oh-so-amorphous emotions form--but it has to also become more than that, more merging, more flowing, more a thing of both, or what is contained becomes stagnant--hard to grasp all that when one is young, and now that one is no longer young, the understanding seems less important than the poem you have crafted with these elements. Thanks for this gift to start my morning, Shay.
Ileana said…
Nobody changes his/her true colors and we are what we are, oftentimes complementing each other but not always.
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Wow! That closing: "The deep. The stars." Love the water and glass comparisons, which so totally work, especially the glass refracting the light and sending it back...........your love and memory poems are my faves.........sigh. I can see that long hair hanging down her back.
. said…
This is every bit as good as you know it is. I'll read it again and again. Thank you for writing and sharing.

Two things I like weaving into this piece are that 1) lightning striking-sand makes glass, and 2) water in a (glass, in this case) vase sustains a flower, for a short time. So I suppose if you are outdoor water, you have the power to help things grow. But if you're not ... if you wind up being indoor water, then at least filling up a vase can bring something temporarily beautiful into the house. I think that's your point ... this isn't the ideal relationship, and it hurts, over and over again. But still, there's something tragically beautiful and at least partially fulfilling about this combination.
Great fable here about accepting what and who you are. - Thanks, mosk
Outlawyer said…
A very sad and human poem; the honesty of the poet and the characters in the poem as well is very touching and makes one feel for them and for the difficulties of love itself. k.
Kerry O'Connor said…
She told me, "I am empty; it all comes from you.
I refract your light, then send it back."

Why must the glass always be half empty for some, when the water is so sweet?
Mama Zen said…
This moved me, Shay. The glass girl and the water girl - such a flawless image.

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