A Window

 

It is with the night

that the jaguar dream steals in,

pulling along the full weight of

the dark

in its mouth. 

 

It is into the window

the dream climbs,

lifting in one leap

darkness from the earth,

a darkness

the better

to see.

 

It is from here the jaguar

dark catches

the scurryings of things

though they think they know

the ways of shadow.

Within, such pride

in tiny leaps,

without, a faith more timid

yet confirmed

in the kingdom

the light left

all for them.

 

But jaguar dark

in darkness sees.

 

Now the moon

disturbs

a smudged white eye.

 

Across a sofa pillow

her grey skin distorts

its own indolence,

stretching toward the sofa’s arm

a claw,

will

hook

with its cool curl

the starting of a seam.

 

It is not the jaguar

but it is also the dream,

shadow

to the darkness,

watched intently,

or overlooked,

what

the night’s seen in.   

 

 

Glenn Ingersoll is the author of 2 chapbooks City Walks (broken boulder) and Fact 

(Avantacular). His prose poem epic Thousand (Mel C Thompson Publishing) is available from bookshop.org and as an ebook from Smashwords. He writes two blogs - Love Settlement and Dare I Read and his poems have recently appeared in haiku kontinuum, Rejection Letters, flux, and InkSac.

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