blue window

That longing you have to be invisible,
transparent as glass, thin air
that is what moves you certain times to tears
watching the evening fill with city lights
and the long dusty summer avenues
rise weightless through the air and
tremble like constellations in a sky so
deep and clear you are your one desire,
Oh, let me be that blue…



And in another moment you would stream out the window and into the sky like
a breath —
but it is almost too dark to see. In the next apartment
a door is flung open. Someone speaks someone's name.



from: Katha Pollitt, Blue Window

 

 

 

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