When through lighted windows coming home
When through lighted windows coming home, you glimpse a fragment of another life, sometimes, in those half-times between there and here, it is enough to make you catch your breath and swallow hard. Sometimes when you see that stranger child at peace on her living mother’s lap, the dizzy roar of things unhappened flattens you. You surface in a harsher element, walk on, feel for the certain edges of the cold key in your pocket.
Susannah Hart the poems