Blind

[u/Deep-Bat-6785]

One night I lean on my windowsill
and see a shadow,
white and still,
on the highest floor.
Seven stories, I count,
and nothing under it
but a light breeze.

I can’t tell what it is.
The dark keeps its edges to itself.
I make out a stubborn stance,
all my strained eyes will give me.

A cat, I tell myself,
or some stray thing the wind has found.
It could be anything.

All I ask
is that it’s not a who.

The shadow drops,
not with a body’s weight
but in a slow unfolding,
a white cloth slipping its clothespins,
sailing down the dark.

A sheet.
Just a sheet.

Now every night at the windowsill,
my face drifts from the moon to that edge,
and then the ground beneath it,
blurred again
by a slightly leaky eye.