Poetry: R. L. Kurtz

Death at a Crosswalk Seen from a High Window

Glass, cornea of safe corners,
perfection of sand in geometry,
is the plane portal above fields
of vision yielding endless chariots and
Hector twisted beneath our feet.
Geometry, a matter of degrees
revealing white-stripes that Death repainted yesterday.
Sandal, wheel, bone and shield—
contention of trespass at the axis of living.
Priam seeks poetry in the geometry of his walls,
listens for divine musings among cracks
in stone then sees below a son racked
by the engine of haste.
What verse to recite over pooling blood but this?
What lines to trace limbs bent on redefining
the geometry of the human form?
What grace to serve as intervention?
Glass, the cornea of my corner—
I wish it blinded.