Poem 523

I like recognising my arm’s doglike qualities …

Appreciating My Arm

Settled on the windowsill
of the bus
the sun strokes a haze of hairs
along my arm
my sleeve rolled up
like the flap of a tent
that lets in the light
and when I go to open the window
a little wider
my arm moves itself
like a dog getting up
and stretching
                               the fingers lock
the muscle contracts all along
the forearm
slowly drawing the window
back
looking wonderful
feeling fantastic

and all because the guy sitting
next to me has a
hook