Woe is the window. Thin as an eyelid.
Think of it: it is maybe more there
in your mind than it is here, in between us
and the street. A wash with a wet rag
and it is gone. An outstretched arm
and it is back again.
How comfortable is your house?
Are you safe enough inside to fear
the outside? We cannot be protected
unless there is danger, otherwise
we just are. I fear the world,
so I do not have to fear in here.
When the window winks
with the light of dawn, I will rise
and remove myself from my handy home;
my conveniences will wait for me.
The liquid glass in my window
will sag historically.