One Floor Above

Upstairs, it might have been people, speaking in a language we’d never had the time to learn, but we think it was television, playing the day in reverse, backwards flying birds putting the dawn back into its box, raindrops stitching themselves to clouds and the windblown trees, unblown by the great gales that surprised us that afternoon.  It was night, with the day a glowing backwards square, playing out in the apartment one floor above us.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s