Monday, February 4, 2008


WEIGHT


I have come to feel the weight
of strangers who live as close

as the windows across the street.
Although for me, they weigh
no more than a snatched breath,

a stuttering film clip, something

held in a lidless blue light,

in a grip so steady and determined
it must be a dance; one that is heavy,
twists under its own weight.
Her fingers by the sill,
a mute instrument ready

to draw the curtain, to forget all this,
to say, “the dance is closed.”

Monsters