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PART 5
The porch light
at the Writer’s house
has been on for days and days.
The grass is a little longer
the cat in her window looks lonely,
but it does look well fed.
Should we knock upon her door?
Do we dare? What will we find?
Or.
Smell.
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PART 4
The house on the corner used to be yellow
then it was pink and then it was blue and one day it was painted gray.
There were cherry trees out front and a holly tree out back
and a little grave by a fountain full of frogs.
The Writer who lives there never comes out
of the house that is now painted red.
There are curtains in the windows that are always closed
and the swing on the porch creaks when it rocks
like bones carefully finding their way
on worn wooden steps
up from the basement
of a house
that used to be yellow
and is now painted red.
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PART 3
There was a story that haunted the house
that I’ve built inside of my head.
It was all about monsters and curses and gardener
named Erasmus
who always sings when he digs.
There is an abandoned fire
burning on a cold hearth
in the house
where my shadows used to live.
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Part 2
We want out
we told the Devil
we want to come out to play
so let’s make a deal, let’s strike a bargain
we know you are up for the game.
Our Writer is blind
so we will give you her eyes
she doesn’t use them
anyway.
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PART 1
The Devil walks through
all of my work
and sometimes he stops to play
with words dreaming all alone
in my ruined and unmarked graves.
What lies beneath the cool green waters
of Riversleigh River?
Is it a face? Was that a hand reaching up for me as I looked down
into the waters that gently reached the riverbank
and rested there for a moment
before being pulled back out again?
I peered into the water and my face peered back
questioningly, I decided with annoyance.
Of course nothing lies quietly beneath the waters of Riversleigh River
I told myself sternly.
Its weighted down with rocks.
Big ones.
I should know.
I put them there myself.
In a small cottage, the kind of small cottage that you can find hidden at the end of roads that you would swear you’ve never noticed but you must have driven by it everyday since forever
because
roads and cottages surrounded by wild gardens do not just appear as if by magic out of thin air- isn’t that right?
So, back to my little story.
In my small cottage, surrounded by a wild garden chocked by weeds with softy downy thistles and tiny pink and purple blossoms I work on my needlepoint near a window with aged cream colored curtains tied back with packing string.
Last week I saw a car drive by and then the car stopped and rolled back and the driver and I were eye to eye, as it were.
I wasn’t going to stand up, because I was very busy but I decided to because my knee was a little stiff and I wanted a drink of water anyway.
So I stood up and the driver in the car leaned back and then leaned forward and I saw her take off her eyeglasses, clean them and put them back on again.
Then she sat there and then she looked straight ahead and nearly drove into the tree at the side of the road ( a beautiful twisted apple tree that produces the tastiest apples anywhere on Earth ).
” Silly woman, ” I said, wishing just a tiny bit that she had hit the tree or maybe the fence because nothing ever happens on quiet little roads like mine ” you’d think she had seen a ghost or something.”
I guess I had startled her- my windows do need a bit of cleaning because they are a little dusty.
I went to my little kitchen and got myself a glass of water and on the way out I checked my calendar again- because I am so bad with numbers and impossible with keeping track of dates
January 6th, 2019 FULL MOON
I had written in red- with little paw prints all around the square because I have not only a taste for over sweet apples, needlepoint and gardening.
I have a wolfish sense of humor too.
RDP Friday: COTTAGE
