a red house in the trees

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.