Ghazal

Day and night he sees her skin glow at the window

yet in his dreams she's a shade of the window.

The band changes the tune so night won't sound too minor;

the church bell lies more than time at the window.

The president's speech falls on the people like rain.

The people sigh with belief he's their spine at the window.

What did we think we'd find on opening love's box,

a figure to adore or the shadow of a mime at the window?

The idea of order clogs the blood and dices memory,

it is as if there never was a pine tree at the window.

How might the flesh answer the bones beginning their revolt?

With the sun shining and the wind full of rhyme at the window.

What's luck but a candle burning with the stars in your name,

yet I think I know what I'm likely to find at the window.

The circus-crowd gasps, the ropedancer somersaults to the tent's top,

and everyone wonders if you were this kind at the window.

The beast you cover with a blanket is your dream of exile.

What a scene that is that sings for lime at the window.