Glassblower by Gary Leising

Lover, lithe little body,

blown-glass brittle girl, ball globe

glowing in the fire, spun

straw to the end of Hephaestus’s

mouth. Little limp away

to land above these depths,

heat-proof apron heavy

like lead dropped on you

in dental chairs, the x-rayed

execution before brittle teeth

taken and drilled, filed, and filled,

fixed, formed, and blue-glowed

into their own gowns,

little statues arrayed

on the lintel of your gums,

sentinels strategically guarding

the source of your air,

the wind that blew the glass

globe, blue heat melting/

sizzling in the dark,

cold, elemental planet pool.

---

Gary Leising is the author of the book, The Alp at the End of My Street, from Brick Road Poetry Press (2014). He has also published three poetry chapbooks: The Girl with the JAKE Tattoo (Two of Cups Press, 2015), Temple of Bones (Finishing Line Press, 2013), and Fastened to a Dying Animal (Pudding House, 2010) He lives in Clinton, New York, with his wife and two sons, where he teaches creative writing and poetry as a professor of English. Twitter: @garyleising