Le voyage dans la lune

Friday, January 15, 2016

The downstairs windows
           in our townhouse opened

as awkwardly as the front door
after the last shoulder-in.
           Haphazard tracks bent

           & bent some more
           by screw drivers
& dithyrambs of fingers

doing their work—
           sometimes in gloves,
           sometimes with galaxies

of fingerprints & nails chewed
           down to the soiled hooks

           underneath. One time
we found a press-on nail ledged

           like a glittering smile
& no screen after the amateur

           thief kept it—bronze
           medal when she couldn’t

pry the window. & from
           underneath the crooked
           kitchen opening, where

we sometimes hid
           when my mother worked
           late & the neighbors

got thick in their loudness—
           next to the burned-out
stove & through the spaces

           under the curtain’s home-
sewn hems, we could see

our back neighbors’ curtainless
           windows, squares
of light so generous we might

           have mistaken them
for 3 moons if they were round.

Friday, January 15, 2016