house of glass


i live in a glass house
of rumors
violent whispers from fiery tongues

in the winter the ice perpetually
creeps forward, inching slowly
and retreating again from the
heat
as if oceans' tide

during the night
frost decorates
the windows in icy formations
of various fractions and angles

and during sunrise
they melt away
peel away
the clear view of
snow

the sun is my friend and enemy
in my glass house i accept sunrays
in their full force
on cloudless days

sunset is nostalgic
and dusk is the
haunting
lonesome love
of dying lovers

i observe the sun's
ever-changing
color of the world
from views in my glass house

my pipes are glass
and even my waste
is delicately seeped in solar energy
i flush, shower,
and gargle in the sun

in the evening i climb
my winding-stair of glass
comb my hair with a glass comb
lay flat on my bed
and wait for the sky
to deepen
and pierce with star-light

my motion on the orbiting,
rotating earth,
is as a jagged clear crystal
a fossil
with life-breath

victim of fog
and storm

sun's companion.


-Ruth E. Dominguez


Photo by Bubi Santos via stock.xchng

Ruth E. Dominguez writes nonfiction, short fiction, and poetry. She has worked and traveled in numerous cities in South America, North America, and Europe. She holds a B.A. in Latin American studies and performance and an M.A. in sociocultural anthropology. She presently works as a teacher.