by Flossie Hedges
been four winters that
wound red bird pelt waved
like a bastard flag outside
the living room window
made his place on bitter
orange bradford pear
blighted tulip stripped
bare he’s taunted us
as we’ve reconfigured
ourselves / us when us
is long days I sleep
on the sofa while you sit
in the green velveteen
chair and gently turn
the pages of a novel
again again us when us
is my mother coming
to visit helping us when us
is fostering then failing
that scabby lab mix / he
works in fits and taps
intermissions to the car
window glass ball sitting
in the yard long opalescent
twists from the dollar store
that hang from the porch
lights move in the wind
to confuse / he finds his
face in them an enemy
Flossie Hedges is a writer, visual artist, and teacher living in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky. She holds MAs from University of Louisville and University of Pittsburgh, and she works at a small college that serves the Appalachian region. Her recent work has been published in EcoTheo Review and Fruitslice.