Three Floors

Mother was a crack of light
And a gray eye peeping
I made believe by breathing hard
That I was sleeping

Sister's doughboy on last leave
Had robbed me of her hand
Downstairs at intervals she played
"Warum" on the baby grand

Under the roof a wardrobe trunk
Whose lock a boy could pick
Contained a red Masonic hat
And a walking stick

Bolt upright in my bed that night
I saw my father flying
The wind was walking on my neck
The window-panes were crying