Poem

Poem From a Peeping Tom

I saw her sitting in
her third floor
window reading
the poems I sent

she leafed through
them for a while
and then she went
into a tight hunch

not moving for
several minutes
as I waited below
in the bushes

thinking soon she might
toss a sigh or maybe
a sob of recognition

but all I heard was sirens
of twin patrol cars
coming from the bowels
of a bad city.

(John Birkbeck) @The Coffee Shop Times

Posted by Bittle at September 1, 2005 08:20 AM