one minute poetry

Tell me your thoughts
Spilt from the wine you keep balanced
Delicately on the edge of a table
Sanded from the trees in a forest up north

The same wood you use to fill the holes
In the walls you put up
That you just can’t help but peer out of
Pretending there’s a lock

Step through,
You are not a man
You are a splinter in your own universe
A crack in the bottle of every wineglass you’ve balanced
Begging it not to fall.