"Fifty brief summers, fifty northeastern
winters have close to petrified the frames
once carefully recessed and rigged with pulleys, though the ropes have frayed,
the weights like clappers dropped inside the walls.
They're called "eight over twelves,'' my guillotine windows,
that slam themselves on spring,
and the wooden spoons that prompt them up belly like yew bows,
and the empty shampoo bottles woo, and the knives, hair brushes,
shoe trees, books, and jewelry boxes,
all will be ruined soon.
Ring the house that wants it to be winter,
a house for wintering, warn the spirits that they'll lose a hand,
a tail sailing in and out of the bell tower.''
-- From "Guillotine Windows,'' by Deborah Digges
