Pied–à–terre
June 1, 2020Memoir by Diane G. Martin
My rights are less pertinent these days, and I’m learning restraint too late.
My rights are less pertinent these days, and I’m learning restraint too late.
My own porch looked unlived-in, a stage for a performance that had yet to happen.
The ancients believed those who witness these colors would live forever.
I believe I will continue to change in ways I can’t prevent.
The stranger approached, opened fire into prayers.
Not one creature gazes out toward me, solitary observer.
Wasting days until Dad, accusing me of putting down roots, chased me away.