by Pamela J. Jessen
Death has visited this house.
***
Now the doorbell warbles an odd tune
in the dark hours after midnight.
Now a fine sprinkling of dirt
collects on normally clean floors.
***
She checks the yard for pranksters
but finds only wind and scattered leaves.
A cat sits under a streetlight,
tail switching,
its gaze turned upward at
stars that burn like signal fires,
their meaning lost in the deep
cold vastness of night.
***
Before closing her door,
she tests the doorbell and listens
to its familiar tone.
She tries an old charm
but her sage won’t burn.
Her eagle feather disintegrates
at a touch.
***
Death has visited this house
–and likes it.
About the Author
Pamela J. Jessen is from Colorado and loves writing poetry and short fiction. Her poetry has appeared most recently in Absent Willow Review and Snakeskin Poetry Webzine and will have two poems in the upcoming “Competition Collection” by Writer’s Digest. Short fiction has appeared in the anthology Women Who Run with the Werewolves, Cemetery Dance, The Horror Show and Twilight Zone Magazine.
©2009 Pamela J. Jessen
