glass infection

it began with a the basement stairs,
once wooden little tomb stones 
now turned glass. one step at a time.
foot on slick surface.
i peered right through
to the dusty floor where 
neon mice trade raisins & broken
christmas ornaments slowly disintegrate.
i told no one. often we think 
an impending tradgey is best kept
as contained as possible. i dreamed
of the coming glass as i watched
my mother knit gloves on the couch.
of course we have regular windows
which i pressed my hand to. 
winter has been coming for several years.
next, glass in the bathroom. glass tub.
glass floor looking down into 
the living room. all my family
staring up at me & my bare feet.
we blamed each other. dad raged.
he said the kids had brought the glass
from all their Google-searching.
my brother blamed me even though
he wouldn't speak it aloud. the family queer
is always a cite of illumination:
an eye piece towards if & how
each person wants to see another.
i was easy to blame because my bedroom
happened next. sometimes, they watched
me sleep. my little glass cage.
head lights from the street blaring
through the glass. walls rounded.
i lived spherically. my friends told me
to just leave but i believed
i could show the walls how to harden again.
a secret is just another kind
of glass. after that it spread quicker:
hallway then kitchen then parent's bedroom
then the outside. everyone could see
through us to the other side. 
birds smack into the siding & pieces
shattered like wine glasses.
watched my mother press her face
to her bedroom wall. watched my brother
sprawl out on the floor like a star.
i went down to the basement
to try my own remedies: poems 
& stories & a camera flash. nothing.
amplified feet. a warped flute.
it was me all along though. we are usually
several contagions at any given time. 
i left & the walls inhaled. i stood 
in the driveway & looked 
at the structutre's solidness. 
i crave the glass. it lives 
in one of my fingernails. 
a littled latent
cathedral wall. when i visit
we gather in the yard like birds. 
pretend the house isn't there. 

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