Robert Krut A Woman in Fog

Smashing glass—in the middle of the night,
the sound of a rock through a windshield—
and shouting—brittle explosion and shouting.

Looking out the window, there's a guy
ransacking a car in front of your building.
You don't understand how no one else is awake.

It's dark and quiet. The marine layer is sleeping
between buildings, in the road.
Broken glass in a puddle on the sidewalk.

Above, an owl pivots its neck,
sounds a signal,
flies away.

Down the block, a woman in a nightgown
reveals herself from behind a dead lamp post,
raises her hand.

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