Glancing Back
Is tracing the past
always like laying one's hands against glass?
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2DemK9yBplt2pTFnsuxONnwXtCw2Vlba55s9NDk34B4485-4rCvpVOBA7V-eTIRS4TcvDz6HXei4ZJ_oQCblBKD1JN9dQJQ69aXw1zm0TwoNtbqh2e1z3JdCjwt7RL7OmY3YP7b12NE/s1600/window+1+6001.jpg)
Glass can break, cut.
Blood runs thin, until it coagulates.
*
Welcome aboard mighty homunculus,
tiny, but more powerful than the us.
*
Outside the flowers are leaving the dirt
and climbing into this milk glass to wilt,
their sour-sweet scent following us, always.
Is tracing the past
always like laying one's hands against glass?
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2DemK9yBplt2pTFnsuxONnwXtCw2Vlba55s9NDk34B4485-4rCvpVOBA7V-eTIRS4TcvDz6HXei4ZJ_oQCblBKD1JN9dQJQ69aXw1zm0TwoNtbqh2e1z3JdCjwt7RL7OmY3YP7b12NE/s1600/window+1+6001.jpg)
Glass can break, cut.
Blood runs thin, until it coagulates.
*
Welcome aboard mighty homunculus,
tiny, but more powerful than the us.
*
Outside the flowers are leaving the dirt
and climbing into this milk glass to wilt,
their sour-sweet scent following us, always.