For Such a Widely Used Material, Glass Sure Does Have Some Downsides

Joey Connolly

In the beginning it was cream and fucking
peaches.
               In the middle it was like finding a simile
so exact as to cease its working. Like finding an apple
with another, smaller apple in the middle.
In the early-middle it was like a bull in the
chinashop of my lazy preconceptions,
like a bull in the chinashop of my
clever reservations, like an
amateur kintsugi enthusiast in the ruined chinashop
of my childhood idealism. In the middle it was
peaches and cream, again, for a while. In the
middle it was like a glass filled with
glass beads. Like finding a heart with another
smaller heart in the middle. In the late middle,
intermittent stress and beauty in the
tigerstripe pattern of birch-forest in dense fog.
In the middle it was like mistaking
your reflection in a glass door for a person
reaching for the other handle, and standing
aside. In the middle, a delicate quadratics
of desire and satiety, the squaring of my need
by yours. In the middle the frantic chiming
of internal rhymes, like a dark shine of starlings
rising urgently together from the branches
of a pine tree. In the middle like opening a person
and finding another, smaller person inside. In the