unclemaryspoetry

Due to a window-cleaning agenda,

the turntable was laid with music,

at which great sadness welled forth and

tear fluid stood in the corner, but

never before had windows been

cleaned in silence so perseverance

was decided upon and perhaps

this was a needed sadness, a

lump in the throat spoke purely

from the soul: a new outlook must

see cleanliness may be heard,

listen clarity will succeed, and

now the picture split up in two:

women by their windows

a shared sadness multiplied

again and again like the grain of

rice on square one doubles up to

an uncountable pile on the chess board

a mirror hall of unhappy women

with aprons and window scrapers,

a high-pitched mosaic of despair,

a clustre narrowing into a single note,

loud and clear, in shattering glass -

We all want other lives to live!

I want to get myself a herbarium

I want to leave this council house

I want to become a sculptress

I want to save the Baltic sea

I want a spot in the middle,

to find a centre, to know if there is

such a place and what one would

do once you are there, I want

to surprise with my knowledge, yes

even in a biblical sense, who

would have expected that out of

this virginal window-cleaning sonority

I want a last to stick with

I want a child to be with

I want a husband and flowers

to press into my poetry book

All these wills will be heard out

in the name of Righteousness

and to deviate from the Narrow Path

will do good for Mankind, soon

there was clarity and silence

finally supplanted  the eye-fluid

a heart beat under the apron and

surprised a needy sadness from inside