in the attic window:
he has climbed the staircase
with an offering:
a length of yarn
on cardboard, glued into a mark
he himself does not comprehend.
A whole day spent at different angles
around the effigy. Leaving only to make
new gifts, returning to make more space
under the old TV stand.
The meantime spent crouched
at the window, watching the neighbor’s horses
chase the shadows of horses,
while beneath him
small, uneasy sounds in front of the television.
The old sofa, the old ottoman,
the old armoire inlaid with birds—
all this he has arranged
up here, to replicate the living room.
“Hands and Knees”
moves slowly down the wilting aisles
to rest by the gate.
split gently on the vines.
From the top rail,
a shadow falls.
It is you—
frozen across the grass.