Melting the Ice
The brat pounds on the door.
“No one’s home, “ I yell.
“Go away. You’re not
welcome here.”
She wants to be picked up and soothed.
I feel it in her wail.
“When will Mama come back?”
“Never, I scream.”
“Never, she died in her cocoon
and resurrection is a dream!”
I hear her small cry.
The door is frozen shut,
covered in ice.
It looks red to me,
brittle, hard, unmoving…
“I am not a coward,”
I scream at the door
And then I call the police,
the fire department,
the snow plows
and the gathering smiles.
Even Glenda, the white witch
makes an appearance.
And, at last, the ice has been cleared.
“Come little girl,” I say.
“Come inside and stay.”
“You are safe now.”
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