It’s the penultimate day of Poetry Month! I think I say that every year on the 29th, mostly because “penultimate” is a fun word. Today’s #NaPoWriMo.net prompt asked for an “in the window” poem. Imagine a window looking into a place or onto a particular scene. It could be your childhood neighbor’s workshop, or a window looking into an alien spaceship. Maybe a window looking into a witch’s gingerbread cottage, or Lord Nelson’s cabin aboard the H.M.S. Victory. What do you see? What’s going on? I decided to look into someplace both completely familiar and always a mystery to me.

Head Windows

I’ve said how I wished
a tiny window existed
just above your right ear,
under a flap of brown hair
that I could part 
to peek inside,
so I could see them
forming and burrowing —
your great and terrible thoughts, 
your swirling spectrum dreams, 
the shy ones that slowly emerge 
from shady corners —
but if you had such
a window, wouldn’t I too?
And however would I justify 
keeping it permanently
shuttered?