Frames

In this room

I sit.

I sit gazing through windows

lined with red frames

framing my vision to a set

perspective.

I see parts of nature

in my view.

Fragments of beauty

wanting to be whole

but separate, instead.

Through the scale of my mind

I can create the rest of this scene—

yet, surreal.

 

I don’t want this

preprogrammed

panorama of life

seen through the still glass of my world.

My world must be rendered in complete.

So I close my eyes,

my pliable eyelids cling

to the fabric of my face:

I see skyscrapers

and people, places

and waters—people

drowning in the places of these waters.

No life rafts to save

their souls:

they’re consumed by the their box with windows.

 

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