black shingles
silver turbine that hasn’t spun
doesn’t spin
or spins very quickly
it appears to be standing still
two chairs
separated by a small table
hold fast in want
on the wooden deck
the dark windows reflect
the setting sun, branches,
the billowing clouds in
the portent sky; obscured
what goes on behind
those walls
in this red house
of the trees
murder?
incest?
infidelity?
– she waddles
down the sidewalk, grey shirt,
saggy black shorts, white
headphones dangling; sunglasses
quick pace; I stare and
attempt to uncover something
arousing about her listless body –
what goes on behind
those red walls
of this house
in the trees?
someone crying?
a child dying?
suicide?
the ducks begin feeding
near the lake’s shore
their tails twerk
with their heads submerged
a light inside ignites
to vanish
a branch snaps
above the water
there is a red house
in the trees
Header photograph © Jason D. Ramsey.
Andrew Lafleche is an award-winning poet and author of six books. His work uses a spoken style of language to blend social criticism, philosophical reflection, explicit prose, and black comedy. Andrew enlisted in the Army in 2007 and received an honourable discharge in 2014. He lives in a small lakefront home with his wife and two children.
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