The Transfer

Her eyes look wide and clear around Cast there are shadows of the fog igniting night As she sees an image on a wet neglected window pane It holds her in contempt Cold, damp, with sweat, shivering in fright And nothing can save her from herself Or the 32 fluid ounces of rain still pounding down Outside, trying to get in is sanity To get at her with anger in the minute Separated in the thinnest infinity Seen through dark matter madness In her mind glass shatters from the past to now Windows shake, her hands as well Like unnerved paranoids trying to get free Waiting for the very air to attack she sits Like a burnt out fuse in pain Cowering on the growling floor Nothing but a soul can save her Something she could never have Or purchase at the store for currency As the storm advances Every rain drop must be counted Saved for a day she can't remember Crawling on the floor She slithers to the window pane Every second must be saved Electrified and drowning in her tears That evaporate like mist in to the void Her mind erases every thought into the glass Turns inside out reflecting Enveloped by fear the rain remains When the door bell rings Nothing will be the same 12/15/14 entry for Carol Eastman's "Best of 2014" - Poetry Contest