The Window

Behind the curtain Of the open window She stands quiet— Eyes averted, head bowed.

She turns to peek, Then snaps back At the sound of kicks And high neighs.

There were father's words, It's not fit a girl watch. But more than his words, She fears forbidden things.

While mother lived, There were games In the front parlor At times like this.

Now at sixteen, She's Woman of this house, And likely soon, Woman of another.

She slams the sash against The neighs and thuds of kicks, But most of all, the shouts And men's coarse laughter.