Squall I walk into a house I do not want. My friend lives here. Dried flowers, stenciled prayers, A jar of pasta shells dyed red — I hunt For any living thing. She comes downstairs. She wants to make a cup of tea for me Before we go. She wants to give her house To me before she dies. She wants to grouse About death with her friend good naturedly. I want to spread the butter on the scones. I want to pour the milk into the tea. I want to fix the marrow in her bones. I want to spit in mud and make her see. At once I’m lost. A wind blows shut the door. I drop my tea. I weep. We clean the floor.
J-T Kelly is an innkeeper in Indianapolis, Indiana. He lives in a brick house with his wife and five children, his two parents, and a dog.
Amethyst Review 