Despair infiltrated our bedroom fortress.
It disguised itself as blankets.
It told mythic stories that we dreamed.
It counted the stars using my teeth as an abacus.
The wind kept whispering riddles.
I solved a few of them correctly.
A ghostly score appeared beside my head
to the muffled bing-bing-bing of a pinball machine.
A magpie mocked me each time I passed its tree.
Its tree was just outside our front door.
There was no back door, nor side door to the house.
Those doors were there before the magpie moved into the tree.
The mountain has tired of my footsteps.
It cries Stellar’s Jays where my feet leave a bruise.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney