My balcony as a meagre cheekbone rides
above the rapid avenue. From here,
my window witnesses recurrent tides
of commerce coursing through the hemisphere.
I feel the town's composure. Eye-to-eye,
my glass confronts the vigil of another;
a wide-eyed, bright-boned balcony where lie
in sunlight a sleeping child and watchful mother.
But continents beyond her window's glare,
a far-off glimmer draws my dreaming glance:
at the flames of a falling balcony I stare
as an alien sentry posted alone in a trance,
where none keeps vigil and none but the dead can hear
a dark-haired woman's child cry out in fear.
1982
Published in They Also Write . . .,
Alberta Teachers' Association, 1984.
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