Jennifer Fendya
Response
Poets Without Windows
By Ray Sharp
Inspiration piece
I don’t think poets
do well without windows,
She said from her desk,
watching the world go by.
Here I am, on the street,
a pedestrian peering in
Though the old storefront
with just this pane of glass
Between us. Glass is not
a liquid, not exactly,
It’s an amorphous solid,
rigid in structure but arranged
With haphazard molecules
that let most of those persistent
Photons past without making
a scene, turn but a few away,
And trap within fewer still.
The light that passes through
Is how we see each other
almost as we truly are.
The light that is reflected
is how we see ourselves
Through the eyes of the other.
And the light the glass absorbs
Is the restless energy that warms
the space between us.
I watch until you look up
from your work, a quick glance
Toward the street that either
noticed or saw right through me
And sent me on my way
wondering about poets
Who do not do well
without windows.
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