Sunday, March 30, 2014


A face in a window
told me all I needed to know
about age.
The colourlessness, darkness,

A face that stared through me,
that saw or not,
cared not ─
blank as its countenance ─
for all that moved. 

A face
on a north-facing window-sill,
turned outward
for that day
toward the sun on the other side.


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