THE BLINDS

I interrogate my memory.
No answers.
Only ominous emotions,
filtering through
as imitation sunlight,
cold aluminum against
winter glass.

What happened
when the blinds were down
but the slats were open?
I still can’t breathe when
my eyes are met by
thin horizontal lines,
wide bands of light.

Depression covers me
like a dark cloud.
Certain patterns on fabric,
Architectural stereotypes
from eras of uncertainty.
Colors and furniture
and the blinds.
What happened
behind the blinds?