Walk around her entirety,
appreciate her foundations
how long she has stood here
how much she has seen
Stroke her sides
watch the flecks of paint
fall, litter the ground
like lead-based snow
You mustn’t stomp onto her porch
leaving muddy boot prints
nor rattle her door knobs
twisting and turning
like an adolescent trying to
“Tune in Tokyo”
Move slowly,
nearing her as a deer—
easily spooked and wary
—quiet as the dawn painting
her windows pink and orange
an echo
of the curtains she once wore
If her smile is broken,
pieces shattered by time
and children’s stones
it is even more reason to be cautious—
she’s been hurt before
she’ll be slow to trust again.
Tread carefully upon her steps
respectfully across her boards
Slowly, slowly…
And knock before entering
because you never know
what waits inside.
Like a magpie, Rhonda Parrish is constantly distracted by shiny things. She’s the editor of many anthologies and author of plenty of books, stories and poems (some of which have even won awards!). She lives in Edmonton, Alberta where she plays Dungeons and Dragons, makes blankets and cheers on the Oilers.
Her website is at http://www.rhondaparrish.com and her Patreon is at https://www.patreon.com/RhondaParrish.
photo by Peter Herrmann (via unsplash)
Crow & Cross Keys 