"Nihil Ad Rem" by Sage Ravenwood
Nihil Ad Rem
Two neighbors who can’t stand each other
find themselves in a clinic getting
bloodwork at the same time.
There’s a dog who loves stray cats.
She doesn’t love them when she needs to
relieve herself, growling her impatience.
Rose drapes billow from a broken window,
the only color left in a fire-riddled apartment.
Flowers belched into falling snow.
A January slate sky spreads open
her prayer hands mimicking a child,
”Here is the church, here is the steeple.”
An orange tabby watching
from a collapsed shed,
”Sees all the people” with trust issues.
Sunlight slices through dirty panes of glass
smudged with nose and paw prints.
A man sits in a red car idling at a stop sign
waiting for someone who never arrives,
guns his engine and takes off.
There’s a backlit silhouette closing
curtains after checking locks.
In the morning a fox strides
down the middle of the road.
Winter sitting on the edge
of a knife blade of days.
Photo Credit: Staff