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?