mandy jo angleberger

The Muse, the Widow, and the Screen Door

The electric hum of light bulbs hurts my head,
So tonight I’m writing you by candlelight
A storm came in the other day,
Yellow leaves were flying in spirals around me
The seashell wind-chime you made for me swung back and forth
And that unmistakable clattering shivered through my spine

The screen door doesn’t spring closed with a snap like it used to
It just lazily finds its way back into the groove with a creaky groan
On windy days, it repeatedly shakes in and out of the groove
Slamming now and then
Sometimes I look up to see if it’s you walking in
On pessimistic days, my neck refuses to turn
The adult in me always knows it’s the wind
It’s those uninspired days I really wish you were still here

The wood frame around the screen is starting to bend crooked at the top
I guess I’ll have to take it down and beat it back into shape soon
But I won’t tighten the screaming hinges
Sometimes it’s comforting to hear a noise made by something other than myself