How much of what I tell is made up? And what part of it is true? All, all.
December 30, 2021
.
After the Snow
A wind has come up — as if somewhere in the earth,
perhaps in the ground behind the house,
a door, a hatch, previously unknown, has been flung open
to admit a sudden gust of hope — gust, spelled ghost,
for, just as suddenly, the wind has died down
and the door has slammed shut — and now,
now, I hear footsteps
and groans.
.
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Confessions, Diaries, Doors, Fiction, Footsteps, Ghosts, Groans, Hope, Journals, Poems, Poetry, Snow, Stories, The Earth, Truth, Wind
William Michaelian 