"Repainting the House" by Angela Narciso Torres
Repainting the House
All day, from every wall, the sound of scraping.
Painters on ladders strip the chipped white
siding on this old house. There’s no escaping
orbit-sander, rasp, and putty knife.
Their tools, like locusts, peel the tattered layers
that drift like early snow, the wood’s deep
grain exposed. Autumn chills the air,
they rush to fill the cracks before rain seeps
and soaks good cedar into rot. Inside, I turn
the radio on. Some tune about regret.
A line brings back the time I learned
you loved her. How the heart forgets.
At dusk, through white-flecked grass I draw the rake —
cicada husks beneath the fallen flakes.
Photo Credit: Staff