In The Kitchen Window

 
                          by
          Suzanne Westhaver

  

Looking for a glass among the odd,
Before dawn breaks,
I hear voices through the kitchen window.

 
Matching used to matter,
But somehow--it became unimportant.

 
From the room without ears
music filters through the floorboards.

 
The drip of water from the kitchen faucet
Fills the void of departing voices
Like a pan left to soak
Until morning.

 
I lift the cup
Waiting for light to filter through the window,
And wonder if it matters.


I am awake
Even in this darkness
And the shadows
Only Cast things in a different way.
 

Things will look different tomorrow
As they have already changed
Standing here

In the kitchen window.