Clothesline View of Brooklyn
Window viewing a wall
knows no world other than
brick square against nothing;
laundry blows in the yellow
tinged wind. Flaps mimic
birds flying. Bras trapped by
wooden pins, splintering. Grey
points piercing smoldering
dust and fiber on its way
to the refuse below. A push
from an unseen hot whisper
of foul breath smashes it
into a window viewing a wall.
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