The window frames the crowns of distant trees,
    white sky, roofs, a few wavering
    branches of Japanese plum


    The window’s scene floats,
    a shining rectangle of light
    on the double-paned glass
    of the door, the blinds within closed


    There are spectacles loosely folded
    on the desk, their framed lenses
    multiplying phantoms of themselves
    on blank paper under a lamp


    A woman sits alone and still
    in the print on the wall,
    her gaze lowered, but not to the cup
    whose handle her ungloved fingers wrap


    The window frames the crowns of trees, white sky
    The window’s scene floats
    A woman sits alone and still, all lenses
    Seem opaque as mirrors.


    Adanna, Issue No. 1, 2011