Contributor: Theresa A. Cancro

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I have no blind, only
lace curtains gracing
my back, similar to clouds.

I release the walls
from their oppression,
loosening rigid structure.

No eyes necessary yet
plate glass is my skin,
solid and viscous at once.

Those within gaze through me
each day, laugh at squirrel antics,
murmur among birdsong.

They obsess over doors,
safety, fear in the lock
that keeps them in, ills away.

Wind ekes between layers,
soft shrill gives me voice,
they finally listen, sense my raw.


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Theresa A. Cancro writes poetry, especially haiku and related short forms, as well as short fiction and nonfiction. Her work has appeared worldwide in dozens of publications.