I imagine life as it jumps out the window.
Will it fly or will it fall?
What if it floats and
hits the apartment across the street?
Maybe it’ll hit his window as he
watches the traffic below.
Green, yellow, red—like Christmas
blinking forget, watch, and end.
I imagine hitting against his window and I
wonder if he
I imagine hope as it’s dancing on stage.
Will it sigh or will it sing?
What if it’s silent like my sister
when she came out of my mother’s womb?
Maybe she has lots of stories to tell.
Heart, lungs, brain—like butchery
pumping love, life and ideals.
I imagine crying in someone’s womb and I
wonder if she
I wonder if people notice.
I wonder if they listen.
Since I am, you know, silent.
Silence is a different kind of noise, isn’t it?
a sort of
That’s why I’m here, not out there.
I watch. Not interfere.
I reach but cannot touch.
So I imagine…
life jumping out the window,
hope dancing on stage,
people noticing, listening.
But I’m always
in the periphery. In my