Window Record

1 February 2018

The bird staples itself
into the afternoon, asking
to be asked
for forgiveness –
a prowling Hyundai snarls defiance.

Here, the options are
to be mostly one thing or
barely many others.
Escape is via
laugh track tollway weather balloon dirigible –

the backboard
in the breath,
the blackboard
of the throat,
the things giving each day permission to proceed

in the furrow of the previous one that is to say
with desolate compassion. See the corner’s quaking aspen
whose leaves
are its highest vow
grinding down the teeth of the day. It happens every

moment, and again. Serried fenceposts
which don’t know better. A bypass’ plunge
beyond imagination. Two
caterpillarwise helicopters.
The smell of the first breath from air-conditioners in cars

signalling nothing. Evening coming on like television,
like the second cigarette –
nothing redone or to redo
much less forgive.

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