Where to Begin
A poem.
Where to begin Five windows
were all I could afford. And so
I hung them in the air and set a chair
beside each one. Found cats
to sit upon their sills. Some days
I sat and gazed
into a dark wood, cool
and sown through with thrush music,
yellow flickers, lady slippers spinning
on their stems and when
a ceiling slowly formed and hovered there
for months and into years, I waited,
watching, until walls
filled in the space
between them all.
– Deb Hensley
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