I went away and came back the next year.
I found the window still broken. Broken,

still. Everything changes, we know that. We
have changed. But the broken things stay broken.

How broken must we get to reach that kind
of permanence? Permanence exists, no

matter what they insist. Look at it, there,
in the glass that fractures your reflection,

that draws blood from my tongue. It tastes ancient.
It tastes like the beach where we made our vows

and broke them. That beach has changed, it is gone,
but our vows remain forever broken.

About the Poet

Tim Tomlinson is a co-founder of New York Writers Workshop, and co-author of its popular text, The Portable MFA in Creative Writing. He is the fiction editor of the webzine Ducts. In 2011, new fiction and poetry appeared or is forthcoming online in International Literary Quarterly, Prick of the Spindle, riverbabble, Spindle (Philippines), and Used Furniture Review, and in print in Pank #5, and the anthologies Long Island Noir (Akashic Books), and Flashlight Memories.