The Window


The dog whose every breath will lift

And fall like a beating of wings,

Lolling like a fat man in an armchair

All day will listen to the heat pump humming

And stare wide-eyed out the frosted glass


To the world beyond the window


And then little winged beetle, staring at the wind he cannot see

And throwing tiny bone-limbs against the window

As if he could make it disappear

Like platform nine and three quarters


Elsewhere, mothers from their kitchen stools and children in

bright classrooms

Stare low-lidded at the bird in the shadow dancing

And the muted rain that slides down the arms of the wind chime.



Upwards the window gazers stare

To the clear

And white

And blue

Half-planning an escape

To the world beyond the window.


by Madison Hamill

Queens High School