One hand on the catch, one foot on the floor The room says stay like it has before I turn it once, hear the old frame strain Then the whole shut season hits my face Dust in the screen, stiff hinge, chipped white paint I built my calm from a lack of change Kept every breath in a narrow range Till safe was a word for a smaller cage Now cold air cuts where the habit sat Finds every nerve I had folded flat My eyes run wet, but I don't step back I need that sting; I can breathe through that Open the windows, let the weather in Let it drive the dust from the air I lived in If the room can't hold when the air gets wild It only held me by keeping me still Open the windows, I don't need a sign I can lose my balance and still walk out Past the glass, wet branches whip and bow My knees go loose, but I know the route now Turn from the sill with the cold at my back Cross every board while the old walls crack Down through the hall, hear the outside rush Three porch steps wait past the overgrown brush I name what hurts, let the sentence stop Then move for the yard while the hard rain drops No map in my hand No role to defend I OPEN IT WIDER— AND LET THE OLD AIR E-E-END! Open the windows, let the weather in Let it turn every held breath loose again If my footing shakes when the branches move I don't owe the room another excuse Open the windows, I don't need a sign I can meet the open before it feels mine Three porch steps down Both feet touch the yard I LEAVE THE SHUT ROOM BEHI-I-I-I-IND— WITH NO NEW NAME PREPARED! The windows stay open, and the weather gets in It turns my face toward where I've not been Now the sill is behind and the ground runs strange Each step grinds gravel; rain runs down my face The windows stay open, hear the hinges cry I am out in the wind with no alibi Cold in my lungs, gravel under my shoes Nothing is settled, and still I move The house gets smaller each time I breathe I follow the air where it doesn't lead
