Window Pane Reflection

In youth, inverse voyeur, I watched the world;

aperture, akimbo legs, a hurdy-

gurdy head my camera obscura.

Unpinned, black holes for eyes, the world when flipped

turned out inside, left right. What right word left

for liquid, light-bent quiddity? Observe,

two views I'd spied and both deserved

their parity; so crab wise I alike

would walk beneath the firmament of earth

and down the corridors of tilted trees

hung perpendicular to taunt the sky.

Now, in a narrow window's casement eye,

transported to that transposed plane, my feet

now head for their antipodes so meet.