The Box That Glitters

A poem about feeling disconnected.

The box glitters in its dusk,
Coated with broken glass and dust,
As things fall around me, dreams
And confidence and hope.

The box shelters me, excludes
Me, works like a teflon
Cage, clear and slippery.
But I still see the

Sad creatures fall, broken wings,
Tar-filled mouths, bleeding
chests black against the sky.
And I want to weep but

The box caresses,
Wipes away unshed tears
And mutes the sad cries
of those broken beaks.