you were the one
who threw the first stone,
smashing mirrors
in my glass house.
now i see myself
in their starry eyes
as the one who brought
them bad luck.
windows break
into a cold sweat,
crying out to the cracks
in the walls,
when it rains misfortune
on my indoor garden,
slimy with slugs.
i'd dig my way out
of this splintered debris,
but at the end of the tunnel
the blaze will be no
face of light.