24th August 2016
Opening the blinds and mopping
condensation from the window’s
inner skin is akin to sluicing one’s face
or taking Vitamin D tablets. Sun
bleaches the table. Opposite the tall
window, our neighbour in his early
twenties rolls up his own blind.
We are five metres apart, upstairs,
gaping across the bright courtyard
into each other’s morning. He is
wearing boxer shorts and yawning.
I am holding you and have my shirt
unbuttoned, half of the feeding bra
open, one Amazonian breast showing.