Page 25 - Contrast1987v29
P. 25
The Parsonage
My sister breathes deeply
beside me.
I concentrate on her rhythm --
Sleep is far away --
I lay in my bed struggling
to find it,
fearing the deceptive silence. 'tn e argument
t,
sponges through the wall,
catches in my unintended ears.
The wood rots
from too many years
fighting to absorb the hushed voices,
yet harsher ones escaping.
The master door slams --
echoes throughout the halls,
rattling my door on its hinges.
The frenzied tires squeal
from the driveway.
Stones, the size of hate, pound
across the pavement.
The house is quiet.
A dog whimpers sympathy
for the child
shaking in her knowledge.
Sleep staggers slowly
blotting out the sorrow...
Kelley S. Connor '87
23
