The Porousness of Certain Windows (after DFW)

Invisibly splintered
glass and your world
clouds, threat of water
suspended across
your eyes, outside
a blur of condensation
your own glass lenses
can't distill. At night
you dream, the opaque
pane and seeping cold
a reminder of disjunction
between what is blocked
to sight and yet split open
to the unyielding seasons.

Thanks for reading! This year I'm writing poems about moving into my first house and dealing with a lot of drama and evolution in this and other parts of my life. We'll see where it goes.