Dirty Window

I stare at the window

where light reflects back at me

see the spots and stains

left by blowflies and rain.

Behind the glass

lies the darkness of night,

studded here and there

by streetlights and

yellow-glowing windows.

I should wash that window;

make it sparkle

when it reflects

the morning sunlight.

But I don’t feel like

making the effort.

Anyway, if I wash it,

clear away all the fly dirt

the coal dust and water spots,

I will no longer know

The glass is there.

I’ll see nothing

between me and

the blackness of night.

Can I face that?

Perhaps I can –

the glass beside me,

its ruby contents

warming my stomach

and soothing my mind,

creates a boldness

I would otherwise not have.

© Linda Visman

10^th February 2011