Claudia Grinnell - Second Prize

These Days

     I don't have to be beautiful,
     just clean. (Erin R.)

I am not able to leave
my house anymore.
The keys have gotten too big
for the lock, the car

won't start, the iron
is always on.
It appears I can't fly
anymore either, can't rise,

can't fall. There are many
birds that never leave
earth, that merely hop and stalk
through waist high grass

up to my door
and knock. Beside me,
the man with the knife--
I won't let them enter.

My kitchen hums
with excited pots,
salt drips from my eyes
into the green onion,

pepper drowns in red
tomato blood. One bird
flies off. The man
with the knife

brings it back to me.
The water boils. A time
will come when I need
those feathers.

Claudia Grinnell was born and raised in Germany. She now makes her home in Monroe, Louisiana, where she teaches English at the University of Louisiana, Monroe. Her poems and stories have appeared in numerous print and e-zines, such as Hayden's Ferry Review, Bottomfish, New Orleans Review and Recursive Angel.