Windows

TIME-STONE

  Hallo, Metropolitan—
  Ubiquitous windows staring all ways,
  Red eye notching the darkness.
  No use to ogle that slip of a moon.
  This midnight the moon,
  Playing virgin after all her encounters,
  Will break another date with you.
  You fuss an awful lot,
  You flight of ledger books,
  Overrun with multiple ant-black figures
  Dancing on spindle legs
  An interminable can-can.
  But I'd rather… like the cats in the alley… count time
  By the silver whistle of a moonbeam
  Falling between my stoop-shouldered walls,
  Than all your tally of the sunsets,
  Metropolitan, ticking among stars.