Downstream

A window floated down a river at night.
It saw through the illusion of itself
But the river water was awfully dirty.
Recalling all the rain it stopped from entering,
The old woman who sat in front of it for hours
Watching a long and empty gravel road,
Nonetheless clouds and the stars
Kept running through its mind.
When the old lady was removed from its sash,
How the weight in its soul really pulled
In an empty house – a paper house, draughty
Like an old pickup rolling down the highway
Next to the river. There would be a point
Where the two would align, and that might
Mean something. Also, there were falls ahead,
Even a lock and dam, and ice too.
Maybe a turtle would throw rocks at it,
As if trying to get the attention of a sleeping
Lover in the zodiac it wanted to mate.