A window for seeing
A window for hearing
A window like a well
that ends deep in the heart of the earth
and opens out into this expanse of recurring blue kindness
A window that overfills the tiny hands of loneliness
with its nightly gift: the perfume of generous stars
And from there one could invite the sun
to the geraniums in exile
One window is enough for me

I come from the land of dolls
from under the shade of paper trees
in the garden of a picture book
from the dry seasons of barren experiences of friendship and love
in the dusty alleyways of innocence
from the years the letters of the colorless alphabet grew
behind the school’s tubercular desks
from the moment the children could write
the word stone on the blackboard
and the panicked starlings flushed from the ancient tree