The nightbird calls, crestfallen

Covering a nest in shadow.

Slight strings of glint

Peek from a window reflection.

 

Everything that exists

Is somewhere out there.

The flowers and killers.

Planets, rabbits,

Stationary, everything dead,

Alive or indifferent

Resides in the space

Beyond my window.

 

Censored families asleep in their jewellery.

Homeless men petting scruffy terriers

And no connection whatsoever

 

To the nightbird

Fixing the final pieces

Of darkness to his nest.

Clips it down,

Turns back to me

One last time

To wonder

Why I stare.