From Behind This Dusty Window

yesterday unraveled into a sky that looked like
a bruise, and we call it today because it lacks
originality and life, and the sun still tries to shine
from out behind this dusty window pane

say dormant is a good word for life, and I call the
door that, the dog that, the people walking past
beneath my window that, and everything is
just a little too much like last season’s weather

call the dog back from chasing the squirrel he
won’t catch; as the sky bruises more darkly
while the sun begins to hide behind the world
while I begin to hide behind the world