Living on the Second Floor
by Carolyn O’Connell

This door is solid lets in no light.
I walk to it through corridors lit by
globes that never dim, even at night,
as I walk mirrors echo my image back to me,
and black & white photos nod.

Every apartment has a pairing door
behind which my neighbours
live their secret lives. Tall black
planters filled with toped box trees,
seasonal flowers guard the entrance.
We pass through sliding glass doors
into a hall that’s filled with sunlight.

Behind my door I look upon
a garden filled with flowers:
blackbirds frolic on the lawn,
long tailed tits scatter over silver birches
and a robin, a wren nest secretly
beneath the balcony of my neighbour,
darting to feed in the hedge of holly.

When I open my windows
I hear their song, an orchestra
of birdsong plays morning & evening
over the…