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A poem from Kyle D. Craig

Screened In Deck
by Kyle D. Craig

          —for Lorna Shoemaker

Today I find it impossible to deny
that cobwebs are spun in the corner,
that the latch on the door beckons,
that my spirit feels like the garden hose
in winter—coiled and closed in a box.
I want to reach up and smack the wind
chimes that dangle motionless
from a hook, feel the onslaught
of the sun’s rays peeking through
pear trees, dance among the explosion
of colors I witness each morning
by way of the feeder: the lemon-yellow
figure of the finch, the blackbird wings
banded in red, or the blue and white
body of the immaculate jay. I want
to scurry behind the squirrel who
walks a tightrope along a telephone
wire, or roll my skin in the soil
and grass like a lab without a leash.
O how I long to be a part of the world!
But for now I will remain locked
in my screened cage, my pens resting
on a small table, steam slowly rising
from the rim of my cup, my whiskered
friend napping on the warm wood,
his water bowl a few feet beside him.

Bio:I live, write, and work as a psychotherapist in Indianapolis, Indiana. I am also a member of the Indiana Writers Center, where I have studied under such poets as David Shumate, Shari Wagner, and Micah Ling. My work can be seen in the forthcoming Spring issue of Tar River Poetry."