Squaretable Seminars

Things accumulated at our house,
the house of the brats,
three redheaded kids,
things like bats.

Sometimes
we noticed a dark spot on the ceiling
not quite the right shape
to be a knot in the wood.

When we were little
Mom doled out the butterfly nets.
We shrieked in terror and excitement
and jumped when it did.

I bet she was just glad
we were amused
and that she didn’t have to catch it
on her own.

How absurd to see
pajama-ed kids
chasing after a squeaking nightmare
like it really was a butterfly.

The flapping thing
ended up outside on the porch
and Hans Joseph and I back inside
heaved shut the door.

John Henry with his hammer
whacked that thing,
whooped and hollered like a madman
‘til it was flat.

Mom loaded it up
on the tulip-planting shovel
and flung it over the road
to the dead corn field.

The four of us
then settled back on the sofa
in the living room
in peace.


© Hannah Walleser