plexiglass
A poem
ha!
unbreakable glass, that can’t be true,
i can’t be trapped here when the doors are shut,
i have to know that i could run through it if i need to.
i have to be able to escape when the doors lock.
how the blinds open, through twist or pull,
won’t prove if the half-assed slab protects us,
whether it ensures safety or traps us in lonely rooms,
growing bugs, grass, from pills as unfortunate seeds,
reflections of glass on ceiling tiles,
flowers glittering, though muted, through it,
i can’t tell if they’re real or painted onto the window.
since i started sleeping here, ecosystems formed,
plexiglass sealed us off from the natural world,
taught us to make our own,
so we did, a world of fear, confused,
fighting over animals for food,
we become more and more animal ourselves,
normalizing hunting ourselves, each other, convinced
we weren’t cannibals because those hunted were “shits.”
lord of the flies of the tall, brick,
prison-like building waiting, month after month,
after scream after fight, fear in our chests, anticipating
nighttime attacks, they could enter our room in silence,
we can’t stop it,
they’ve got a shiv or bat or a hardcover book,
plastic water bottle to the head,
hear the shatter, and think,
was it glass?
a window?
a means of escape?
i can laugh at the word
unbreakable,
but i know.
