pelargonium.

my neighbour across on the sixth floor comes out on his balcony

only rarely — only for the purpose of watering his red pelargonium

the only splash of colour in the tunnel of windows I see through my own

according to estimations and experience of his spare appearances often

I am naked in my space, my little world of a room, without fear

The curtains stay loyally tucked in on the sides —here they aren’t tools for

disconnection or privacy, and maybe one day I’ll have to duck on the floor

vulnerable and cold, but the pelargonium needs nourishment, and I too,

water my needs and silly habits — jealous that only one of us has to hide when that happens.