Glass

In the last of the desperation
The eons fly
And the cosmos reels.
We come home through the snow
On an evening just like this.
Above us, the clear spider
Of the moon drifts over glass.
It may be the sky
Or just the surface of our own gazing
Curving back.
We step through the cool,
Hard-to-breathe darkness.
Through that door it is always winter,
Deep and full of stars.

Seth Jani was raised in Western Maine. He is the founder and editor of Seven CirclePress and his own work has been published widely in such journals as Writers’ Bloc, Foundling Review, Hobo Camp Review and Gutter Eloquence. He currently resides in Seattle, WA.

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