The way in which sound
comes and goes and echoes
so feverishly. The world
inside and outside
like two shoulders
that never knew they were shoulders
despite the weight
placed on top of them.
Don’t forget about the open window
and how it whispers breathily.
And what is a window
but a lover, a fable: Day
in her daylight gown,
the sun singing folk songs again,
singing skies
in the key of Wheat Field
with Cypresses. Don’t forget
about the window,
who was kind enough earlier
to mention the doorway
in its reflection.
comes and goes and echoes
so feverishly. The world
inside and outside
like two shoulders
that never knew they were shoulders
despite the weight
placed on top of them.
Don’t forget about the open window
and how it whispers breathily.
And what is a window
but a lover, a fable: Day
in her daylight gown,
the sun singing folk songs again,
singing skies
in the key of Wheat Field
with Cypresses. Don’t forget
about the window,
who was kind enough earlier
to mention the doorway
in its reflection.
Adam Gianforcaro (he/him) lives in Wilmington, Delaware. His poems can be found or are forthcoming in RHINO Poetry, Third Coast, the minnesota review, Rust + Moth, Poet Lore, and elsewhere. He tweets intermittently under the handle @xadamg.