The Window
The dog whose every breath will lift
And fall like a beating of wings,
Lolling like a fat man in an armchair
All day will listen to the heat pump humming
And stare wide-eyed out the frosted glass
Sentry
To the world beyond the window
And then little winged beetle, staring at the wind he cannot see
And throwing tiny bone-limbs against the window
As if he could make it disappear
Like platform nine and three quarters
Elsewhere, mothers from their kitchen stools and children in
bright classrooms
Stare low-lidded at the bird in the shadow dancing
And the muted rain that slides down the arms of the wind chime.
Rusting
Upwards the window gazers stare
To the clear
And white
And blue
Half-planning an escape
To the world beyond the window.
by Madison Hamill
Queens High School