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You can open a window
by lifting it
or breaking it
you, with the bloody fist
of Creation.
"You rotten bastard"
can be said with a sly smile
or with his shit out at the curb.
One tongue can speak two languages.
One pane can break in, or out.
Some windows can't be opened.
This one has nine sections,
none of them whole.
Some are bricked up, painted shut,
or warped by weather.
I could tap on your window
with a lopsided grin
or a brick.
Let me in, I want to love you.
Let me in, I want to mess you up.
The blue window at seaside
is a yellow window after dark.
Open in springtime, so sweet the breeze.
Open in winter, someone has moved away
or died.
I disliked you, but changed my mind.
I loved you right away, but changed my mind.
My reflection in the night-pane isn't the old me.
Should I wipe a clear spot on the window
or lean from the ledge in front of it?
You can open a window
by lifting it
or breaking it
you, with the bloody fist
of Creation.
__________
written for dverse poetics--the romance of the open window
image at top: Jim Holland "Summer Reading" 2005
Music: The Hollies Look Through Any Window
"Us" movie clip Adelaide meets her double.
I'm blown away by this poem, Shay, its open pain and brittle honesty. Every stanza stands up to challenge us with the dichotomy/two-facedness of human intercourse, a lover's passion (or should I say, passing passion?) Your figurative use of the window is so perfect for the subject, so original. I came away shattered, wondering at this power of "Creation," and how we misuse it.
ReplyDeleteTitle for me showed this poem's cards -- when every window in this house is a me mirror, then the conversation isn't so much with others as reflected selves. Which of course makes the intercoursings so bruising.
ReplyDeleteThis was SO Brilliant! I enjoyed very much.
ReplyDeleteI couldn’t live in a house of mirrors, Shay, I have enough trouble looking into one. I like the way you began and ended with ways of opening a window. The relationship (with someone else or with oneself) described in this poem seems troubled, perhaps toxic, as suggested by the one pane that can break in or out and the windows that are bricked up and painted shut.
ReplyDeleteThis is soooo good!!! Love this:
ReplyDelete"One tongue can speak two languages.
One pane can break in, or out."
"Let me in, I want to love you.
Let me in, I want to mess you up." - Adore, adore, adore!
"The blue window at seaside
is a yellow window after dark.
Open in springtime, so sweet the breeze.
Open in winter, someone has moved away
or died." - Beautiful, poignant, and makes me want to get my paintbrushes out.
"I disliked you, but changed my mind.
I loved you right away, but changed my mind." - Beatific!!!
A poem of strong dualities. I am struck by "Let me in. I want to love you. Let me in. I want to mess you up" and the strong fist of creation. Wow!
ReplyDeleteThe title tying this to mirrors, the question what a window really is, self or the (ex) lover... especially the way it changes all the time, blue in daylight, yellow at night... love it.
ReplyDeleteHard hitting , a short story in a poem. Lots of craft and emotion!
ReplyDeleteJIm (sdtp33)
Love the tags on this adroit poem that gives us duality served on a plate...or is that in a bowl and on a plate? Every metaphor rings true. Our own dichotomy is reflected in the window glass, or invisible when the window is opened for a breath of air. A cunning and occasionally disturbing ( stanza 4) piece, Shay, full of skill and insight.
ReplyDeleteWow! That was wicked good, Shay!
ReplyDeleteYvette M Calleiro :-)
http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
your poetic swings are like a banging window threatening to shatter in the wind
ReplyDelete“The blue window at seaside
ReplyDeleteis a yellow window after dark.
Open in springtime, so sweet the breeze.
Open in winter, someone has moved away
or died.”
This pulls it all together for me in the simplicity and immediacy of its images.