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.