The Glass Girl

She walks with a ring down the hall,

the gray-painted hall,

but nobody sees her.

She chimes when you touch her,

a clear woodwind whisper:

she sings, but nobody hears her.

Her skin is hard, cold, smooth

and clear as air.

You could see sparrows

flying through her hair.

She might break

into sparkling fragments any day.

She feels a crack each time

a sightless human walks away.