There was no one to tell, so it settled <br />in the lines of the house, in doorframes, ceilings, sills. <br /> <br />In the late afternoons that followed, she heard <br />what could have been someone knocking; a cardinal <br /> <br />beat its body against the living room window <br />as though desperate to come inside. <br /> <br />It could not see the space beyond the glass, <br />or know that it had been deceived again <br /> <br />into mistaking itself for something else. At dusk, <br />when the windows' slow reversal released <br /> <br />the bird, turning instead to her own face, disfamiliar, <br />terrible, she also knew the same desire <br /> <br />to fly into that room, that house, some other woman.<br /><br />Claudia Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-affair/
