The woman sits
before an open window
guilty of not being air, water
–or at least a wing that flies-
of being only a woman before an open window.
the sky hangs itself out to dry
beyond the open window
ashamed of not being man, flesh, body
—or at least earth—
of being only sky beyond an open window,
Secret passion of guilt and shame:
a golden woman of violet sky
every afternoon through an open window.