you are the sound of a bottle, neither prior to nor during its breaking—
only after, when it is structureless and unbound, but also the sharpest it’s ever been;
shards of glass in a puddle of sweet wine are enticing, wearing their veils of burgundy, hiding
and shaky hands become archeologists, excavating what remains.
when your teeth rot out, toss them one by one into the box where you keep the broken glass,
deep in the matter of your brain
and introduce them to one another, as if they weren’t already acquainted.
as if the bottle were a stranger to your bones.
Natalie Hayes is a first year English major and film studies minor at SUNY Geneseo. She has been writing poetry since she was about seven years old. She is sure that she has improved with time. While she is passionate about all types of artistic expression, from painting to filmmaking, poetry is her preferred medium.