By M. L. Brown
In the slip of a season, doors
slink from hinges, damp rot wins.
Mother’s house hitches as vines grow
into its eyes. I harvest its parts:
door knobs and bricks, the arched
window through which we glimpsed
the wolf and long night moons.
The walls—I commit to thorn,
let oaks root in the rotted floor,
lichen and moss riot.
In forty years, a blossom,
revenant from her lily bank, might stop
a hunter in his tracks. He will lower
the gun, but not know why.
M. L. Brown is the author of Call It Mist, winner of the 2018 Three Mile Harbor Press Book Prize, and Drought, winner of the Claudia Emerson Chapbook award. Her work has appeared in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, and Blackbird, among other journals and anthologies. Also by this poet: "Christmas Lima Bean" and "Lupini Bean - Extra Large"