The Window
THE AURORA OF THE BLIND DOG
Her hair was Italian & thicker than night
In the eyes of a blind dog
Even the nuclear harness of her blouse
Seemed to suggest something being torn
From a final universal truth
& of all the shopkeepers along all the streets
Of all the time-honored oracles
Holding their futures like tickets to the sullen sky
Only I the amnesiac of the moment was allowed
To imagine my life without her
As hearing a tune of ancient import I grew as lonely
As the last book of the future thrust open by knives
Poem by David St. John from "The Window"