Glazier Poem by S. R. Lavin

the words that coagulate
and conjure
the pond where the surface
like glass malleable
to my touch

in quiet meditation
I see the frightened young man
the patsy

not the calculated assassin

nor someone you’d shoot

but like a moth
flown into the flame

all history

through the window

through the darkness

eternal

so far from the wars
what I see
the changing color of leaves

reflected in transience

the life we cling to

the flag unfurled

the president in his grave
his assassins never
brought to trial