By: Leigh-Anne Burley

April keeps her grandmother’s
crystal and china
in a glass front cabinet.
She cooks in battered pots and pans,
washes chipped dishes and cups,
hangs faded clothes on a line out back.

Wonders if the red rooster
perched on top of the peeling barn
will point the way to spread out
embroidered tablecloth,
take out crystal, china, and silverware,
set table, and arrange flowers.

Maybe after
taking out trash
mopping floors.

Maybe after
weeding the garden
tending a broken husband.

Resolve and courage
are fearless twins
from exotic lands.

April folds her apron,
climbs stairs, and
turns out lights as
ruptured dreams
pulsate through
veined corridors.

The metal rooster
spins in the raw wind.