A window small enough
to fit inside a matchbox.
A boat stapled back together
each clandestine evening.
The two-syllable chirp
of a bird made nervous
by a twitch in the grass.
The thin dress, emptied
of its girl’s body,
which one lifts to one’s face
to smother in,
starving for the oxygen
that filled it, warmed it
like a cotton lung.