Rapping by Dawn Pisturino

MasticadoresUsa // Editora: Gabriela Marie Milton

photo from Unsplash


by Dawn Pisturino
site: http://www.dawnpisturino.wordpress.com

Sometimes, at night,

I hear the rapping of knuckles on the front door,

Very softly but insistent.

Lying in my bed in fear,

I wonder who could be there,

Rapping on the front door.

I listen intently,

But the dog isn’t barking,

And when I pull back the curtains,

No one is there.

The rapping stops, and then I hear it again,

Rap, rap, rap, on the windowpane.

I try to figure out what else

Could rap on the windowpane besides a human being?

My father was not a harmless man when alive,

But he’s harmless now, after death,

Except the rap-rap rapping after dark

On the front door and the windowpane.

And sometimes, the wall. And then it stops.

But once, when I was sitting in a chair,

Reading a book,

The rapping started on the floor,

And I listened…

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