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front porch

Kayla Slack

rain beats on the windows
in a steady rhythm
reminiscent of butterflies’ wings

spring has floated away,
replaced by summer storms
ahead of their time

i sit and i wonder
if that’s why no one has
knocked on my door

because it must be too hard
to even see my doorstep
through these relentless summer storms

but you–
you showed up,
rain soaking you to the bone,

tattered umbrella in hand
and you said,
“may i come in?”

–i said, “yes, of course.”

Spring/Summer, 2020 Issue

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