Glass Box Poem by Sophie Wightman

My breath, hot,
Creates a fog of condensation on the glass.
My palms, sweaty,
Pounding at the indestructible pane.
The rhythm,
In tune with my heart's frantic beats.
They sway
In a loop,
All of them
Swaying to the sound—
A sound that escapes me.
Pounding:
My heart,
My fists,
My head.
The air thinning,
The fog takes them away—
Their dancing,
Their laughing.
I scream for them—
Their singing,
Their lives loop around me,
Lapping against my container.
I feel the heat of their passion
Just outside my walls,
Just outside my reach.
The pounding
Of my head,
But no longer of my fists,
And no longer of my heart.