THE LITTLE RED SCHOOL HOUSE
Allison Eir Jenks
We drew pictures in the window's breath
driving where they made us go.
Her heavy eyes of sky
saw freckles near the moon;
Now stars are stars.
New cracks in the wall of my sister
who slept in the same piece of skin
as I did for just as long.
she is still young in my eyes.
though her soul is a glacier.
Every nail I punch into the wall
to hang a pretty new painting;
I wish I was nailing her back
to when she didn't know
Dad would leave and mom
would go crazy.
How can I be happy
knowing of her dark blood and
scattered head.
I want to wrap her eyes
with bandaids,
Erase her backwards
to the front door of the
little red schoolhouse.
when we all walked her
to the front door and
kissed the soft skin
on her forehead.
