Spooked
written by: Barbara Harris Leonhard
@BarbaraLeonhar4
Night, a suffocating tar pitch.
A whisper strokes my hair.
Laughter and the clinking of glasses
from somewhere overhead.
Music winging to my ears.
I want not to be alone
in night’s dark mound.
Beneath my feet, an ice rink.
I glide in the shadows of this cave,
holding onto the limestone walls,
feeling for handholds and footholds for my ascent.
The light, a sliver of moon,
my rope to the entryway.
I grasp it and pull—suddenly
an open door, a crack of laughter, applause.
Wafts of cookies, cake, cherry pie.
Dark wavy hair frames her pale face.
Her wild eyes warn.
“Go away.”
“Please may I come in?”
“You can’t. Go away.”
Refusals, shivering gusts
slam the door.
Cast out, I rappel down to the trail,
collapse into the pit.
The pine splinters.
Icy filigree fingers blanket me—
That was Lilian—
my dead grandmother!
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