Fragile Days Poem by Ballerina With Fins

I am living on a calendar
made out of glass.29
MayDays have passed,
with the fragile tinkling of
shattered crystal. I look not back,
but turn my head towards
the light,
made only by manufactured
glass shards.

On a calendar, time never stops;
it does what it pleases, surging
through our minds, and
ripening our souls. But fragile days-
I dare not break them, for I
fear I may be breaking myself,
bones brittle like glass. Time will
still go on.

Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-
tick.