Maybe I’ll paint my front door blue,
a delicious shade of cobalt
to keep the haints away.
I’ve never had a blue door,
not cerulean, cornflower, periwinkle, or turquoise.
Dear god, not navy—too severe,
like putting my house in an Anne Klein suit instead of a linen dress.
Will it work? Will they stay away,
be repelled by it, as if it were
smoldering sage? Or is this another trick?
Will the cool, serene water- and lapis-colored door seduce these evil spirits,
beckon them to my threshold to lie in wait,
lurking in the low morning light,
grabbing the hem of my dress,
holding on tight, death-gripping fingers clinging to anything they can get purchase on,
following me down every road I take?
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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Letter to my Daughter
You have a choice to make here: are you going to continue the cycle, or are you going to break it? Keeping your son away from me hurts him; there’s no question about that. I thought you were being hurt, and I was trying to protect you, not punish anyone when I kept your grandfather away from you. I have said that I was wrong and I am sorry, but there was never any malice involved.
By Harper LewisExclusive • 2 months ago
Comments (1)
oh, lovely bit of poetry this is, in that the imagery and flow make it feel like it rhymes!