Daniel Fleischman

There is

a delicacy in a wine glass

being flung at a wall,

like a jet-propelled

butterfly. There is

some serenity to light

glinting, like fairy dust,

off curved glass,

like watching the sun

peek in between

trees on the highway,

the pulsing light wishing

you to sleep. There is

satisfaction in the crash

that resounds in your soul,

like an untamed child

playing an untuned piano

to an untold song

of smashing all the highest pitch

keys, following the urge you

resist. There is

peace in the pieces

of stardust that flutter

down the wine-sprinkled

wall. You’ve just watched it shatter

like my will

on center stage–silent

as I fall–leaving

behind the thud of shards

and footsteps as I hurry away.

There is.



Daniel Fleischman is a senior at SUNY Geneseo. He studies creative writing and biology because he believes salamanders are worth writing about, too. At home in Ossining, New York, he can be found running into spiderwebs as he daydreams in nature preserves or admiring his pet cocker spaniel.