VOYEUR

because I see this view

I catalogue it as mine

 

because I am alone

no-one else can see

 

the sky at dusk

dusted pink

the soft vermillion

of the faded corrugated iron roof

below the blank peach

of the terraced walls

slabs of muted colour

the great chunks of paint

punctuated by the window

otherwise ignored

 

the flat canvas

smeared with paint

what the view became

or always was

 

I watch the window

 

as dust settles

on the surface of the glass

of water set on the table

near the window

why the taut surface

trembles with fear

from the hand which set it there

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