Out the Window

Today the clouds are fat
cottonballs, screensaver-perfect,
full of light. The traffic is loud
outside the window. I’m tired
but not afraid. It is possible to be both.
I am told it is also possible to be neither,
but the jury is still out. Time does not ever
arrest itself in motion the way everything
else does, if only for a moment: the traffic
gone silent, the pen hovering over the page
in search of the next word, the cloud,
white and magnificent, hanging silent
in the fine blue air.

---

Rachel Linton (she/her) is a playwright, poet, and lawyer. Her poems have appeared in Strange Horizons, Emerge Literary Journal, and the Sunlight Press, among others, and have been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. She enjoys stage combat, cats, and time travel–usually into the future at approximately one second per second. Find her at rachellinton.com.