Out our
bedroom window across
car park backyard through walnut trees
into two yellow I can't see
windows, a hotel world,
the 30s, what is this mime?
Something is occuring
inside, *Blue Velvet*?
Nothing moves.
Nothing moves me
deeply, wiry branches in early January.
Nothing happens in the yellow.
I want to see,
I want a shadow play
to hammer in, the origin of the race.
Two yellow windows 50 yards away.
They hang there, twins of twins.