Home ›Poetry ›[the once bare window]
Clean Reader click for a
cleaner page the
usual page

published November 2009

Justin Petropoulos lives in Brooklyn, New York, where he works in nonprofit communications. His poems have appeared in Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Gulf Coast, and MiPOesias. He was a finalist for the 2009 Sawtooth Poetry Prize and has poems forthcoming in Anemone Sidecar and Columbia Poetry Review.

[the once bare window]

by

She watches the moon melon and the rind of oaks. At this stage of the man­u­fac­tur­ing process the edges of bod­ies are marked. Her legs the shut­ters for the once bare win­dow, tak­ing hinge in the frame. Light swal­lowed hard away behind them.

She feels the house, their foun­da­tion, arthritic, set­tling. Afraid, she wants for the oth­ers, desires them—wants them to run, but they just watch her strug­gle. This process is known as reading.

There is applause. You can see it in their eyes. The faucet for­gets basin-ward. She has them like a dream. The shut­ters kick. As part of the stamp­ing operation.

Reading intends. A mea­sure, dis­cour­ag­ing. The shav­ing or clip­ping of bod­ies was unsanc­tioned. She opens her mouth and creaks, but­tons down her sweater, cra­dles the oth­ers awake.