On the Ledge 1. Minny reaches her arm out the open window, sets a glass of water next to me. Head stretched as far into the air as possible, she speaks but never says, Come back in, only talks about my kids, my cat, how the blues and grays of my rug swirl together like glass in a kaleidoscope, asks me what I use to clean it. She piles one small word upon another on that ledge, dissolves the ugly that pushed me out here. 2. Jimmy bends to slip through the open window, eyes wide, breath held until he sits next to me, What now, he whispers, reaches for my hand, waits for my answer. Silence wraps the air around us like a sweater. He squeezes my hand, looks at me, waits, sweaty palm holding tight, for a minute, an hour, a day until I decide.
About the Author: Robin Wright lives in Southern Indiana. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in As It Ought To Be, Loch Raven Review, One Art, Young Ravens Literary Review, Spank the Carp, The New Verse News, Bombfire Lit, Rat’s Ass Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Sanctuary, and others. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and her first chapbook, Ready or Not, was published by Finishing Line Press in October of 2020.
Image Credit: Jacek Malczewski “Sketch of a Woman in the Window” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee.