la chambre haute

la chambre haute

her apartment was

right above mine

I loved to hear her footsteps

and snatches of her radio

she often woke me

singing Piaf chansons

or Billie Holiday

from her balcony

I never saw her face

but most days heard

birds flustering for seed

off her open palm

or her gentle laughter

chiding her ginger tom

for clawing

the landlord’s furniture

she had a washing line

fixed to a backyard elm - 

the rusted pulley block 

needed oiling

I waited until

she went to market

then climbed the tree

and fixed the squeaking

(she never found out that that was me)

that summer she lived here

I did not speak to her

nor hope to be her lover -

she would make me happy

I would spoil her life.