High up on the landing
there’s a little window
for no reason at all
It’s too small to let light into the hall
and I rarely notice it
But today I did because it was broken
I allowed a few reasons
through my head
But none of them led to a plausible answer
so I gave up
I might never know whether
it was a misguided bird
one of the boys who play out there on skateboards
throwing a stone or other missile
or an air pistol aimed at the bird
But it’s broken
There are problems
fixing it will be expensive
and I have no money
so it stays broken
letting in sound
letting heat escape
What if it falls out or in and
I lie in bed and worry about storms and high winds
at three o’clock in the morning
the broken window metamorphoses
into the Whole of Life
A small broken window is now
Money problems
Heating and noise problems
Small cracks may become bigger and shatter completely
My life will be broken
An insignificant useless window sums up my life
and I cry at the smallness and futility of it all
It is now five in the morning
and I pull myself together
I am in awe of the power of three o’clock in the morning anxiety and
step-by-step apocalyptic imaginings
Carregonnen: I do life writing in poetry and prose about child abuse and mental health – politically I am a radical feminist.
