It Sounds Better If You Whisper

there are gems falling from the sky,
much unlike the ones around my wrist
or the ones adorning mon parapluie;

not one place of the sidewalk left
untouched,
not one side of my flighty
armour left unsparkled by them.

there are gems
falling
in all directions
from the sky,

forming sheets of glass where we step,
look, fall,

think to ourselves,
what would it be like,

to sparkle like that,
send warning;
what would it be like,

to fall in sheets against the sky.

i knew the night would end like this
while i stood inside the quiet house,
shaking gems from empty hands.

my thoughts fermented by them,
thinking i might have evidence
enough now,
to leave.