the first window

we watch it blossom 
in the flesh of your chest.
ribs moving. topiary elephants.
the whole nine yards. dear god
how holy it was. we kneeled. 
light shown like stadium forevers.
a cheering man in the sky. 
we thought greedily. we thought,
"guilty guilty guilty" not enough frenzy
& not enough forest. i said,
"here is how we'll invent birds."
you wept. your tears streamed across
the glass like a rain storm. like a simile 
yet to be born. we did nothing else
but look at your window for weeks.
maybe even years. the seasons changed.
men jumped from buildings & 
we saw them plummet past. 
begged you to open it to let in 
a gust of breeze on a july night. 
you hogged that private delight.
we stood on the ceiling 
to antagonize you. walkie talkies
that reach ghost channels. 
"hello?" i asked. the voices said,
"we hear you have a window."
you button-up shirt. oh i am so sorry.
i know i only loved you for your grease
& your willow tree view. 
the dead horse who we say is just sleeping.
there is no escape plan. this is the body.
this is the ghost. get me a rental boat.
water floods the kitchen. 
i wanted mine to bud so badly.
in the mirror i would stare at my expanse 
of blank flesh. come on come on come on.
instead, a fire escape grew 
& then an alarm to pull. your window 
widened until you were just a frame.
no longer a boy i loved.
still i lean against you & say,
"let's not worry about the sun yet,
let's just be orchid-faced & dew-hungry."