The Skyscraper

In my naked windows –
Pale paintings of concrete harmonies
Built out
Of chaos
/
On my glassy skin –
Marks of the painful adjustments
Made by the wearer to the costume,
And vice versa
/
And in my heart –
An ancient mountain god
Dancing forgotten dances,
Whispering secret verses
/
To the sky,
Which is no longer
Listening
Or watching