He is a window, in protest
Shattered
Scattered
To crystals

A curve of stolen glass
Broken
Open
To pavement diamonds

Beneath back-skittering feet
Stones wrenched to fly
Watched by covered eyes
Sliding from covered hands

The comet tail of
Dust, red lit
Marks an exit
Powder hung on flames

Another sheet with glass voice
Resists the bacchanal
Refuses to fall
Easily back to disparate stone.