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THE MAN IN THE WINDOW

They say I did it
But I don't remember.
They say I killed her _
Little Meggie Johnson
With the auburn hair. almond eyes
Lacey. pink sundress revealing nymph-like figure
Iced-black pumps teasing the sun's reflection.
Oh, yes. I knew her.
She just turned seven.
She picked wild strawberries for me once
Thought I needed them more than she.
Once she even asked me why I stared all day
From my attic window ..

That day she walked with me
Around our block,
Said she didn't know why nobody liked me;
Was scared of me.
Said I always gave her chocolate-swirled ice-cream
And made lemonade the way she wanted it
When she would visit.
So I tried to thank her
But my hands were too hard
And she frightened easily.
Hair like licorice, silken skin. darting eyes
Lacey, pink sundress tearing from her limbs
Iced-black pumps pounding frantic messages
On the stone pavement.

Then she lay still.
Her fragile neck bent oddly
By hands that could not be mine.
Her youthful life muffled by years of hiding,
Watching from the window. waiting _
Not knowing for whom or for what.

Kelly S. Connor

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