“Window Glass” – Poetry by Mila Jaroniec

Frau mit Schleier (Woman with Veil) - Odilon Redon, 1895
Woman with Veil – Odilon Redon, 1895

There’s a question in the middle of Mila Jaroniec‘s “Window Glass” that bites us in the heart every time we read it. This dark, wistful, slightly sardonic poem is merely one of the many fine works of lit that you can read in our Spring 2014 Issue, now available for purchase at the low low price of just $3.

{ X }

THE WINDOW GLASS IS TEXTURED WITH DIRT. My eyes settle on smears of leftover Windex in between squished bugs. Wonder if everyone sees the world through dirty glass. Wonder if everyone knows there’s always glass. I consider going outside for a moment but then remember my halfheartedly molting sunburn.

Shelley wrote something about the painted veil, what was that?
That wasn’t this.

            Go clean your room, my mother said. No man wants to marry a slob.

            No one gets married anymore.

            Don’t be silly. Everyone gets married.

                        When we were together I never got a ring
                        or a tattoo of your name
                        but I still feel you next to me when I smell cigarettes or touch leather
                        maybe that’s why I don’t wear my jacket or smoke.

            Who are you going to die with?

Pinpricks of stars dot the expanse of black sky. It’s quiet.
My cigarette tip illuminates the invisible street.

Last summer we looked at that sky, you and I
we lay on our backs on the bike trail and when you put
your hand
under my sweatshirt
my heart
ricocheted violently,
pinpricks of stars,
like air holes in a dark
box that someone keeps
their pets in,
and looks inside
from time to time
to check if we’re alive.

{ X } 

MilaJaroniecMILA JARONIEC lives in New York City.

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