Word for/ Word

Susan Lewis

Dear Openwork

Not only are there
faces in the windows,

there are faces
in the windows.

The market
claims to know

your opportunity

(+/- worth).
Or so say

current currencies
concurrent with your

loss, leaving our
openwork sort

begging for the
ground beneath our

feet, tired of this
lacy frailty,

these tender strands
keen for the tickle

of slipped minutes,
looping round our limits.

Your beryl eyes
echo sea & sky,

facet & recede,
reflecting thin limbs

knotted like threads
against the stretched

vacancy inscribing

our meager bounds,
our vertiginous