Litkicks Message Board Archive

face at the window

Posted to Action Poetry




i see him from the corner
of my eye, there in the
window, house next door
as i push my daughter
on the swing, i look over
& he sort of ducks away,
i go back to pushing, the
face appears again, like
a soul ghost image, a
transfigured oval of
features, linked to the
shadows in faint, almost
lifelike apparition. i
wonder what he wants,
whether the idea of a
a child being pushed on
a swing brings back some
memory, the perplexing
reunion of what was
& what might have been,
his wife's been gone almost
two years now, branches
have fallen off the trees
& litter his yard, just
about supper time before
the wings of the wind
carry away dandelion
spores, a fine warm snow

--markk