26.5.16 (#145) In the Black Window by Myron Lysenko

in the black window

a hand wiping at the cheek and overhanging hair

           white cat coming out between legs

fan on at the start of winter to cool the laptop

                  the electric heater on too

                            the election campaign

you said this, I did not, you did too, well you said this

at the foot of the great dividing range

black forest smoke, black forest smoke, wet roads,

                                                  the band plays a dozen songs slowly
                                           female voices and harmonies

             the moon briefly through clouds

                my mother my mother are you still alive

               my father my father my father dementia

    our new chicken henpecked onto the coop roof

in the tree of the  black window of night

the door opens and you come in with the moon
stars hover in the background