Bunker Hill looked beautiful in 1960
a black and white clapboard shambles
in perpetual dusk
as the cars make their way down 3rd
headlights refract in the camera lens
into a line of blinding stars
A spectacular view of Los Angeles
from an old man’s window
from the new man’s window
from the malingering world’s window
and the woman who has no future
but perpetual black and white
and sons and daughters who will do no better
her window too
I would imagine myself at that window
but I am at this window
it has snowed all night and still snowing
outside my window it was silent
and footsteps so softly
but now the shovels are scraping
the children are screaming
it’s almost Christmas
Christmas is a desolate window
a truly dark glass
through which I see a convex past
write your name in the fog like a ghost
a window there is no way to close
one of these winters
I’m going to board it up for good
Lisa Janssen is a writer and archivist living in Chicago, Illinois. She has published poetry in several journals, and currently publishes and co-edits MoonLit magazine. Most recently, she completed editing film director Curtis Harrington’s memoir Nice Guys Don’t Work in Hollywood, which will be published by Drag City in 2011.
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