Saturday, April 25, 2009: On the Street…The Tailor of Chapel Street, Melbourne

These windows don’t open.
They have the correct appendages:
A small white crank that spins freely,
Unmoored to screw’s threads inside;
A latch that clicks like an on/off switch
Into place. These windows don’t
Open, but it seems that they once did,
Allowing the woman who lived here
Before me to stick an arm into
The crisp, bright air, palm down,
Wrist flexed as she admired the sunlight
Glancing off her nails, as a tailor might
Marvel at the sheen of fabric before cutting.