A white house in front of the park sulking at the opulence of the plants. A house with its first virtue of fortitude in its inability to grow (inclined as it is to be only root) a trim two-story house with a narrow doorway that recalls through which narrows life is channeled, with that wonder of answered prayer that only can persist in lime... From that house I saw you come with an unfamiliar complexion voracious eyes and as if hidden in your step a mad cruelty. I said, "There, he moves, alive and flush with life" and a shutter slammed violent and black at a wind that wasn't there. Used by permission of Story Line Press. |