An Apology, Just As the Weather Gets Nice


Dear darling, I’m sorry, I have broken
of our windows.

The first while I was alone, spring cleaning, tipping inwards, wiping years of grey

Something shifted.

A squeak I could not attribute
to a mouse.

I tried to get back hold of the thing darling, but it is difficult, balancing on a six-dollar bookshelf and a three-foot-high rolling chair and when your fingers drip with blue glass cleaner and the February wind sucks in, the February wind throws your hair in your face

One side of the latch, snap, the
other side of the latch, snap

I panicked. I pushed the top pane up, the bottom pane down, I held them with shaking arms and with a pale forehead locked them into place, and I made a mental note

to tell you

when you got home from running that errand, for me

“darling, we can simply never
open that window again.”

Luckily you got home just as I was breaking the second one.


Here is the deal on that third window darling I don’t even know

I’d opened it nice and wide
I bundled in blankets on the couch and
welcomed that cold February air, because with it came

springier things, chirpier things, the occasional peak
of grey sunshine things.

But this soon became unpractical. You can’t just pretend summer is coming
forever. You can’t just
shave your legs and call it a day.

When I leaned on the top pane to push it, to close it, to send it down well suddenly there was a loud snap! a rusty spring
plastic shards scattered all over the floor.

What is the matter with me.

I don’t know my own strength.

Darling I have created for us a trap, a place where
the grief can’t air out
a place of wheezing technology, recycled air, our own little seat in coach now buckle up


Here is the good news:

we are protected from the elements.

All we have to do
is never open any of those windows.

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  1. Awesome! I like that this reminded me of the ‘I’ve eaten all the plums in the icebox’ poem, except that windows are more expensive to replace than plums, and now your house is an icebox!

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