a window is stuck open and i’ll have to live with it

i chew the phrase over with my molars

swirl it with my tongue chafed by its bitterness

it sounds foreign even in a tongue i’ve mothered for years

is there anything you don’t “live with”?

i’ll have to die with the dead memories of

those brooding mountains and their prehistoric sounds

that sounded like breaths punctured by

a lone rooster’s crow

it pierced through the glass of my window

when it was still closed

you stayed in the room that was one window above me

and i heard you open it one night.

your footsteps caress the floor

the night air gushing in to drown out your heartbeats, away from my earshot

and encode your words in a language i do not speak

it’s strange how i had forgotten about this moment until now

now that my ears are stuck open to listen

and my eyes are stuck open to decipher

my heart is stuck open to quiver

in the winds that blow in

i live with it now.