Windows Facing Windows Review.

an open journal of poetry

good morning, blue

Annie Powell Stone

open jars sit waiting, wanting

I’m painting myself
put me on your workbench to dry

I’m cracked, separated, and poured out
taste me and judge me

I’m extending myself, pointing
pretend there’s sufficient grace

I’m writing myself into a love song
cry my name long and hard enough that it becomes music

a jar rolls past the lip, cracks