Closed Wet Windows Poem by Mitchell Alexander

I wish I could keep my window open.
Life, wistfully wishful, dances daintily of rooftops,
and I once took part in the revel.

I hear man’s intrusion on life,
patterns of plinking precipitation
reviving memories.

I could smell life, it’s disdainful
and oft unannounced changes.
Life now is life then:

symbolic love a severed flesh cable can’t extinguish.
In memories I’m exposed to life, it’s cold
Kamikaze drops falling on someone else’s head.

I could love life’s qualities from afar,
drink and sustain on the residue and run
off.

A cacophony of nigh on silent
specks created life,
while I was in a warm bed.



I wish I could keep my window open,
but now life is an inconvenience.
It will keep me restless, wet and miserable,
as it barges through my window.

Highlights in the sky of opportunities,
missed or taken, irrelevant as the light dies
and discouraging hindsight pressurise
with a clap.

My closed window separates me from life.
I can’t hear it, can’t smell it, only see
the ugly grit patterns made in the fly screen.
But I’m not uncomfortable, I won’t drown on intrusion.

It’s peaceful with my window shut,
keeping life a pane away.