We’re Parked in Cupboards
I took a chair to the window,
listened to the silence – it was
sharp and thin as mountain air.
And I have nowhere to go.
Our cars parked up in cupboards,
the trains are off their tracks,
planes downed by something
in the air. We’re all parked up.
I watched the middle tree
of three bending in the wind.
Next spring, I think I’ll crowd
the window boxes with colour.