Changed

If you break the glass
Into halves
And the crack
Is a thing of shards,

The narrowness contained
Spilt,
Split open

(Think of cities
Broken,
Think of Hiroshima
Molten)

-- This terrible “if”!
Clay god with spirit eyes
Whose fires rise
Into the real --

Then the outer is different around me;
I have shattered the contained.
What is needed is a shout of pain:
‘Immoral’ is the world maimed.