Glasstown But Not The Brontes

the glass soldiers broke while I looked on;
standing in pieces on the ground
and overhead a droning sound

and in my heart, a blankness.
you talk around me in the frozen air
while my breath clouds the windowpane

and all your talk of guilt and blame
rolls down the glass in streaming rains
and winter dreariness.

you will say that I broke them on purpose
when you find me.
I will lose my chance

at blackberries for supper;
an extra scoop of dream.
do I seem to you that ragged?

I am a glass soldier too;
the shards all driven inward.
what war did I ever start.

mary angela douglas 22 november 2015