The Poetry Bar

To Reach Through Glass ‘N Time


Corinth’yun pillars parse.
The Bath-stone, piled ‘n placed, entombs.
Engraved reliefs entice – set-sails
‘gainst castle walls.

Arch o’er entry hollows holding
quartz ‘n ash reflecting flitting
momentary, time-trapped instances
of starlit being.

Flock –
wings abreast a covered sky.
The pane that stands between millennia.


In dark interior its shelved,
a scattered scene of lives cohered
about it, th’little bundle – bound –
of twine – entwined.

A ball, now thrown now still
now caught above the Ra-
resplendent sand; the shadows
of the children hieroglyph
across a temple wall.


I’d place my palm
on yours if I could reach
through glass ‘n time.


I’d hold your hand.
If e’er I shall,
you felt it.

My name is William Altoft. I’m a writer in and from (and consistently on) Bristol, in the UK.


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