God Watching

City at daybreak. Under cover of ivy

creep up the landing to peek in the window.

Behind a lace screen, asleep, her hands are

under the pillow

 

baiting the moment. Rousing Christina

takes more courage than dreaming she’s descended

the river, looking for rocks before rain comes,

washes her foot prints

 

under the rush of swimming red mud. She sleeps

soft for the first time. Herself she imagines

large, vibrant in a forest where there’s no one

stealing her berries,

 

waiting to take her, always someplace better,

places the sky burns. Where the eyes of the

window set, fade into nothing, like her dreams

dim with the sunlight.


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About fenster

There are some who call me, Tim?

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