The Window

The Window Lane Falcon (bio) (After my son's Laryngotracheal Reconstruction) My daughter wringing wind out of cat tail weeds—Go away, she says, the crisp ends limpid over the flowerbox hedge, I can be a superheroand get my brother, then, on the way to the restaurant,he's okay— the flipside of sibling rivalry glistens with a pinkness I don't want to touch.I make you sad, she says, coming closer, looking away and I tell myself it's okay to cry right hereover pinot grigio and a basket of fries, the beefy chicken tenders she surprised meby liking, then it's not. Smile, the brochure at the hospital said,it makes your child calm, but the next morning I feel guilty for fallingasleep while she played a video game. And the hotel room gives no comfort.And we're living inside an eye— the cornea receiving dull,morning light. [End Page 116] Lane Falcon Lane Falcon's poems have been published in American Poetry Journal, The Journal, New York Quarterly, Poet Lore, Rust & Moth, and more. Her manuscript Deep, Blue Odds was selected as a finalist for the 2023 Black Lawrence Press Hudson Prize. She lives in Alexandria, VA with her two children and dog.