the safe side of a window
accomplice of their secrets
sharer of pains too familiar.
It seems a world continues
out there full of laughter
joys of multiple kinds a little
symphony on a makeshift stage
risks renewed on a manufactured mountain.
More comfort is found in solitude
where all remains buried deeply
no fear needed of a revelation
skin deep inadvertently blurted
out with a single syllable uttered
too quickly, too widely with
the embarrassed chuckle.
He sees through the slats of protective
blinds a land revealed as fragments
sharp with souls’ edges they
must not be touched.
The sentence: exile,
leper in quarantine
no longer allowed to assemble
the puzzle of his simple desire.
The pieces sharp as hopes,
cut to his bruised soul
no matter how much he pleads
a voice muffled by the deep walls
too close he remains still.
The crowd is now so foreign
no one waves, no one feels,
as he dies, while his last tear
hesitant, rolls to oblivion.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review, as well as other publications.