“Lady Lupus”–Rhonda C. Poynter

She glides about my little house:
At night, she roams the halls
And wraps herself in shadow,
As she taps upon my walls.
She’s coughed away my neighbors—
They’re certain they must leave,
To run forgotten errands,
To sail the seven seas.

She makes a shifty housemate:
She’ll pocket odds and ends,
And without a warning—there are things
I’ll never see, again.
As of late, she steals my flowers—
Ties them up and throws them out:
This is a sickly situation!
There is no air for extra mouths!

Someday, my house shall be rebuilt;
I’ve planned new and lovely rooms,
And morning will spill down like coins
As birds chirp from the sill, good news—
Someday, it will not matter
That she took the old walls down.
Chatter will get going, and
Old friends will come around

To tell me that they always knew
I’d manage through it all.
I’m here for good—a lady has no chance
Against a wrecking ball.

RHONDA C. POYNTER’s work has appeared in Frontiers, The Wascana Review, FreshwaterPebble Lake Review, Minnetonka Review, Tipton Poetry Journal and other journals and anthologies.  She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2010 (Tipton Poetry Journal), and won Editor’s Prize for her Minnetonka Review publication, a set of three poems.  She has recently completed a 60-poem collection, Ghost Sickness; although the majority of the poems have already been published elsewhere, the collection itself is not yet placed.

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