No Help for That | Jackie Clark

Testaments beheld
through glass
& forced facets,
an object’s enclosed
animosity for all
which peers in.
Eyes always open
or about to be,
exchanging inheritance
for protection in a place
that never changes.
Recollections sprung
forth in uniformity–
mouths always open
or about to be,
bearing unknown
hunger, unconscious
of the dark. Algorithms
skirted in green
& trimmed in anagrams.
The formation of the room
makes sense from the door.