Through My Window - Jan. 20, 2025

the owl sounds like the

tugboat’s horn with ship in tow  

there’s fatigue in the

second sounding

that is replaced by a car

burning rubber in the distance

like a child's screaming fit

trying to wake the adults

then a voice in conversation

with a deaf sky   loud because

he wants the darkness to hear

blames and curses and repent

but the man seems

in an unforgiving mood

at 3 am in the wandering cold

and keeps talking

remember   the night is only

a blanket pulled up to the chin

of day

nothing keeps the eyes

of the restless closed