I cracked my sister's door once,
saw her paint curled fingers
nettled into the floorboards,
shoulders sunken, cramped wings
beating at the edge of the whiter parts.
She never found room to fly
on that easel. Thinking back,
I should have stripped her walls bare
and shattered the windows.


                                               *mzf

somewhere
on my way home
a little girl
reached up,
held my hand,
said thank you
and exited
when we stopped.

something told me
to tell her
it was nothing,
but the words
got caught up
in the sigh
of the closing doors.



mzf