Frames Broken

by Matthew Henningsen

Yellow side pale stick
glass snaps all up all;
white back pull bleak
back crack worlds all unseen;
woman waxy perhaps sits
sees can see a painting not.

But black pants short too
sweep nothing grips;
stare eyes open slit
hole blasts dead earth up;
houses clog debris rivers
lost woods without source.

It cannot be found found
dull blasts in the night dull.

Barren drop knives
stick pots to slimy floors;
water comes never
stirs people dead in earth;
stairs twist rooms
hold boards broken all up.

Blasts dull in the night dull.

See hands dry scratch
walls wither embers die;
but once shine once
woman sees paint drips;
all on all distance blasts
rush through grates rush.

It cannot be found found
shock silence and blind.

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Matthew Henningsen has published in many journals, most recently in The Naugatuck River Review. He lives in Colorado and is inspired by history and travel.