The Act Of Looking
By Alessandra Rizzi
On a rare morning sun
a loud April sky
slouched against my desk on the seventh floor
I watch two men at work.
Sat at the edge of the roof
– their building a construction site –
both legs hang on and
dance on thick air.
I watch them as they talk, their gestures cinematic
half-eaten sandwiches forced to move along.
I watch them and
their eyes follow me, bathing in light
my brush
falters, and suddenly
all around, an overwhelming guilt
for a science I can’t explain.
Turning in my seat
I drop a pen on a scribbled sheet
and wonder
if they miss the moving ground
of planet Earth.