Lucy Anderton

the window pane wrapped
around the clear cold

stone. It was almost like ballet.
Or breaking the skin

of a puddle. Except
the sound.

A thing like that
will make the wind stop

to watch. Out
on the lawn the rest of us forgot

to pretend. The fence stopped
playing gate. The lawn crumpled

into a mat. The cat dropped
her acorns. She sank

with the sound
through the soil.

By the time the glass lay
in a mad smile on the ground.

By the time I felt the grass
soaking up into my knees.

I noticed you had stopped yelling
and the trees had started speaking.

A thing like that will keep
you from death.