Behind the Second Floor Dormer [poem] by Ruth Towne

The two fissures beneath the windowsill whisper
together like ivy. The lower seems to clamor
up the wall, seize false handholds, but advance
resilient toward its partner.

On the window ledge,
the philodendron supports nothing but the warm air.
It wraps itself in fresh threads of atmosphere,
plaits of shine, and braids of floating dust.

Outside, the sunlight fertilizes buds of clouds
and, with rinds of dayspring and stalks
of graupel, composts another wet season.

And I search for you
in the silence of sheetrock, in the abridged rhizomes,
in the raised row beds of the sky.


Image of 1930s Switchboard Operator

[Refer: This story put the editors in mind of the story “Gently (With Tablespoons)” by Mark Wisniewski.]

Image by Alex Popovkin

Ruth Towne is an emerging author from Southern Maine. Recently, The Magnolia Review featured her nonfiction piece “Nine Months of Conflict Taught Me How To Say ‘No’” and Blotterature Literary Magazine featured her  nonfiction short “This Is More Than Homesickness.” She spends her spare time helping high school and college students improve their writing, and she also enjoys hiking and running in New England with Gunner, her German Shepherd.