Night Poem 2

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel the urge to write a poem. Waking up the next morning and reading back through them is always a surprise - I can't remember what I was going on about, the writing format seems detached and all over the place, bizzarre and intruiging. Here's one of them.

-

a third time
happens every time

you clean your scars
like an open wound

god bless the nails
as piercing as
her eyes.

and you can't help but wonder
if you had stared
long and hard

maybe through
the sparkling, shattered glass
she would have turned

kept walking
through the sand.