Who is it who lives
cob-webbed
in her head
when all the world
can see her sleek
and shining,
fractured,
and glimmering
against
the cold
harsh world
inside
and out?

Pray, take Your
Hand, hide the cold,
warm the glass,
melt her heart
in a world
that keeps
worldly
even as
her knee
and head
bow.

Even as
she plucks
away
the webs.