But no one writes poetry anymore! you say. Hah! Turns out I do.
This Window is Closed!
Sorry we missed you!
We’re not accepting
anymore thoughts at this time.
Please call again!
You may beat your wings
and twitter in bitter frustration
click your tongues
pace on the sill
and stare if you want,
one side-eye pressed against the dirty glass.
I’m drawing the shades.
We open again at nine!
You can try again then.
Laying down in stockings
rustling, secretive legs
brushing the upholstery,
insinuating around the edges of an inappropriately casual,
Background TV sounds cheerfully ignore that it’s daytime
that it’s a weekday.
It’s no time and no place.
Nobody outside, walking back from lunch hour.
No newspapers around,
Just bits of paper, dirty plates,
tedious shows you’ll watch anyway,
digesting like pythons.
Even talking’s an effort.
Farts and chugs, heaves and sighs.
Grumbles, builds pressure in my ears.
I reach to rub my neck. Try
to rearrange my face,
smooth it out
soften a deepening worry wrinkle that’s appeared
right between my eyes.
My third eye, according to my yoga instructor.
Third eye indeed.
That exhibit appears to be permanently closed.
I shut all my eyes, the regular two
and invisible third.
In a small room just behind that tiny crack
I hurtle my head backwards,
howl as loudly as I can, let the sound gush forth,
tears streaming down my face
from the guttural, animal release.
I walk here twice each day
clip past the homeless in their little side-car of land
on a romantic, urban camping getaway.
Filthy sleeping bags spread on dirt.
Unable to imagine:
pension and benefits.
They will never have a mortgage.
In their minds they own this passage.
My heels click smartly around their litter.
We ignore each other, avoid eye-contact, continue to never-mind.
Me–their underwear, drying in the sun, their skinny dogs with mean, broad heads.
Them–my too-cheerful summer wear,
my inability to stay young.
A light-bulb flash and stomach-flipping roll of thunder
makes hair stand on necks, washed and not
makes hands tighten on leashes
heels step swiftly two lengths over.
No need to be frightened, it’s just that
the dogs seem like they could bite today.