Denise Dumars

Window Dressing 

 

I was a girl 

when the world was 

midcentury modern 

and the store windows 

in downtown L.A. 

wore fantasy each year 

at Christmas. Elves 

and happy carolers, 

fake snow and icicles 

made from lead instead 

of ice, color wheels 

on aluminum trees, 

the amazing array of toys 

we never got to play with. 

 

None of those windows 

ever opened, and for good 

reason. Late at night 

under the sodium streetlights 

those Steiff bears and Barbie 

dolls and felt-capped sprites 

ran rampant; no one was safe. 

Janitors locked themselves in 

restrooms, security guards 

hid under their desks. 

Come daybreak all was  

safe and normal again. 

And you wonder why 

those windows didn’t open. 

 

Dark Window 

 

If the purpose of windows 

is to see, what have we 

to say about a dark window, 

supernatural matter gone and done 

with crushing glass and a mad dash 

through the frame, Alice down 

the rabbit hole, Neruda’s  

quiet-boned graves, 

but coffins once had windows.  

Imaging being buried, 

screaming out  

the small lozenge of glass 

with no one to hear. 

If we open the window 

to the dark, what will rush in? 

The dark is already here 

and panes of glass  

whether open or closed 

cannot keep the dark out, 

its energy eclipsing all that light.