The watcher through the window
She sits, enclosed in her day dreams
She talks not to any one.
She doesn’t care and never has
They file around her, endlessly
Never ending they go by her and she watches
Her hair like blood flows down her shoulders
Her eyes of flat green. Nothing like pools to drown in.
She watches them and they see her not as they pass
They see only the building in which she sits
Where she sits and watches, sipping at her tea
She has an excellent view from where she sits
It brings her calm as well as sadness
Something she enjoys greatly
The loving couple there, head nuzzled on shoulder
The husband, arm round waist,
Hand holding the child’s
The old couple, slowly walking
Letting the young pass by knowingly
The old wisdom, showing in their smile
She watches them all, and smiles
Sipping her tea
Her hair like blood flowing, staining her white surroundings
Her green eyes following one
Then another
Always watching from her seat
Sipping her tea
The businessman, talking on the phone
To a loving wife at home
The young girl, blushing at the comment
Made by a young boy
The two women kissing as they wait for their order
The Hispanic woman, her black hair glowing in the sun
Sitting at the bus stop, waiting
With a white man, his bald head glowing like her hair
A blinding spotlight
She with groceries,
He with his brown bag
Sitting waiting for the bus
It will come with Godot.
She thinks.
He may beat the bus
She sits and grins as she watches
Her hair like blood
Green eyes that have no depth
The two men that walk, hands in each other’s back pockets
A woman with shopping bags
High class, striding fast, nose up, away from the filth.
The man on the corner with the dirty clothes and a small cup dug from the trash
She sits and watches it all, wanting to join them.
The couple, the woman weeping as the man breaks it off
The other couple, the man stony as the girl ends it
To join them would be joyous
She knows she can’t
Not after that day
Not from where she sits
Inside with the people, moving fast, all in white,
Pushing carts with a million little cups
The others that mumble to themselves
That conquer the TV room, day after day
Not from where she sits
In the room where there is no window.
She had watched him too
Her hair flowing like blood staining the white pure surroundings
She had watched him too
Lover
Watched him writhe, then go limp
The limbs slowly coming apart
Wood chips flying with tiny pieces of him
The b*****d
Hers
Only hers
No one else’s
She was to be the only one for his bed
Hair strung out like blood
Like the blood from him
That stained the walls, everything around
That stained the bed where she had lain
Just like she watches now out the window in her room
The room without a view
The blood on the ax,
The red, strung across her neck like pearls
Splashed across her face, looking like nothing, like she felt
Like the blood that flowed from her wrists, staining the water.
It lay bright, slowly darkening like the setting of the sun
Bright across the sky, then fading into night
Reply
