THE SPACE UNDER THE WINDOW
The space beneath the window
sends me inward
to dustballs, lost paperclips, a toenail clipping
Like winter and setting the clocks forward
dusk claiming the horizon's light early
chill air cocooning body inside coat and mittens
No view through the lathe and plaster
awareness curled within
within the house
within bones
the infrastructure of being
No long sight lines in the space
below the sill
Yet when I crouch my body there my gaze
positions my eyes level with the first pane of glass
positioned to see out
moving inward my awareness freed to perceive
outward
Moving in I look out
anchored
in the space
under the window
Jessica Ney-Grimm
DEC 97