Squaretable Seminars

Milky, moldy tendrils settle in together
While the cricket plays its violin somewhere beneath your grandmother’s hutch.
A creepy little millipede wearing boots tap- tap- tap- dances along the wall
And I can’t help but smile at the smoke pouring out the window,
The boxelder bug I squashed last fall still with one crooked leg crossed over the other
collecting dust and stray hairs.
A babydoll sits in the corner reading tapestries from the society page
Where the bobby pins from my hairdo on Friday play pick-up stix.
The air is hot but it’s not a sweltering, humid heat;
It’s more like a spice being thrown casually along a dry breeze.
A storm is coming.


© Hannah Walleser