ERIC UNGER

Small Window

Small window
be true.

Until a brightness
fills the future
don’t blacken.

Your house:
your darkness now.

Your face:
a glimpse.

Two vinyl strips
cross-support
frozen air.

Four seasons
to a life.

Winter silences
storm to crest.

Silence’s obverse
is the black sun
of nightmares.

Truth of which
code frosting?

The abstruse scratches
of a word?