By the Window

So much depend upon

The stars like freshly fried eggs

Clings onto the plate of the national flag

Next to the window heated up by June

& The sill cold and heavy and full of stones

Like a slice of black bread covered with

Skin as dark as ants

& Plastic flower with a standard

Manipulated pink and petals

With a radian that’s artificial:

As if they’ve just been workshopped;

& Jasper-leaves peeking out of

The silver metal pot

Like goose being down for water

Heavy enough to cover its throat.

All that known depend on

The wind gently pushing curtain

Back and forth

Like tides also a cradle;

& Leaves swinging as if being drunken

Also lavish sunlight

crowning the window

with tender afternoon wind

growing warmer and dimmer

even more.

2021.6