Breaking Bottles to Hear Living Sand Scream, “Freedom!”


A distraction assumed,
As glass bottles collapsed into a dumpster.
Like strangling Death Rattle from a rusted wind chime
Each shatter produced its own scream.

I was told that bartenders are instructed to do this
To prevent
From collecting used glass for profit.
When I heard that I felt funny
Like I was laughing reluctantly at a rape joke.
(Rape is never funny)

But as the bottles screamed,
I tore open a windowed envelope
Marveled at the strength
The adhesive avowed.
Discovered strongest in the left corner
Where a tiny lip of paper
Remained closed. Preventing perfection
By centimeters. Inside was a letter
Post-Marked from a debt collector.
(Strange fanfare from hospitals
When the plastic rectangle
On the cover of a windowed envelope
Captures light
In amber streaks)

Glass bottles caterwauled
While in the process to perish,
Torn envelopes fractured
Like shattered glass.
I could touch the paper,
Facilitate its ideas,
But I couldn’t understand
Love for things that shattered-

Some will eat glass to survive.
Some will eat glass for the taste.
Some just enjoy smashing bottles
With their teeth.

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