Diane di Prima / The Window

 

Night Window, 1928
Edward Hopper

THE WINDOW

by Diane di Prima

Diane di Prima / La ventana

you are my bread

and the hairline

noise

of my bones

you are almost

the sea

 

you are not stone

or molten sound

I think

you have no hands

 

this kind of bird flies backward

and this love

breaks on a windowpane

where no light talks

 

this is not time

for crossing tongues

(the sand here

never shifts)

 

I think

tomorrow

turned you with his toe

and you will

shine

and shine

unspent and underground