Abandoned / Joshua Alan Sturgill
In the house your great grandfather built,
a golden parallelogram daily leans
against a broken window
and the smallest smallest pieces
of his plaster ceiling
are kindled briefly as they pass through it
and collect on the floor.
Where your grandmother
played and slept and fell in love
the moon’s pale wine spills
through heavy rafters and open doors
and the broken window remembers
where she waited — anxiety
settling into resignation —
for someone who never came home
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2025 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.
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