windows

Ancient windows,
relatively speaking.
For decades, these metal
clasps held the panes tight
against their metal frames
Sealed off the winds or
rain or
whatever was outside
that wanted to get in

I bought the right to sleep here,
For a few days.
The panes and the clasps
still stand guard
But some have fractured
Careless hands twisting and
pulling until function
overcame form
And cracks splintered

On the first night,
I was careless.
Twisting a handle with no result
And yet I continued,
Pressure building,
Resistance mounting against
my fingers,
Blindly pushing a Sisyphean load
Begging to open an inch
Just for a little fresh air

At the last moment,
I heard the warning.
Stopped, and looked, and listened
And saw the pane, buckling with pride
Holding steadfast in duty

I unclasped the remaining lock
And the window sprang to attention.