Last House on the Block

(It’s poetry, so nothing’s right out in the open, but I’m just going to go ahead and say TRIGGER WARNING in all caps before we delve into this one)

crickets quieting footsteps

no one thinks to question the shadows

closed doors leave behind

until the lights paint

red white and blue

across the glass:

through the cracks

the social worker

notices the spider

completing its wrap

where the buds

silently fell.

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