A View
Staring at the curtains, sheer,
hanging in the bedroom. Roses
cut in lace, with vertical stripes
spaced between vertical rows of eyelets.
Ovals connected in chains from
hem to hem.
A loophole observed.
A place where mistakes can err
on the side of judgement,
while all the flowery dialogue,
dangling between, barely covers,
the view.
Law, like film on glass,
changes without reflection.
It is the dust and dirt
of life, which sticks to the
oily surface and makes it hard to
tell good from bad.
Distortions refract ideology and values
into grotesque shapes that project
on any surface that happens to get in the way.
Belief may cling to the surface or etch
inside so deeply, it can burn with
the smell of flesh and a hint of smoke.
Recovering from exposure, unaware if
repairs are necessary, the examination
of values is required or perhaps
just a parting of the sheers, to let
the sunshine through, to clear the view
and to add light where clarity was needed.
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