Polka Dotted Umbrella

A life littered, no
clean slates on the mall
for her to slide through. That hole
in your drapes no longer

fools anyone—not even her. She’s more
interested in blinds
that camouflage what sticks
to the pane.

Window Washer

It’s not a stone
against this pane.
It’s that blade hitting it—
dirt of my life
dripping down.