I looked upon the rooftops of the town
from my eyrie of emptiness, a dormitory cell.
I drew the tiles I saw beneath that windowed perch;
each one an individual;
set in a pattern that required painstaking exactitude to reproduce …
in slanting light; in charcoal shades of graphite,
long summer evenings lost in cross-hatching;
time stretched in boarding school;
A prison to a child like me
who longed for grass beneath my bare feet … and running free.