Front Porch Review
Feeling haunted the whole drive up – so
house beyond the gravel road with its
legends. Shadows and skeletons. Ghosts wander
here – I fear the next to come and sit. Autumn
ruffles her earth tone feathers along summer
dying face. Cotton is blown across the roads edge
tangled into field grass yet to fade. Slim Jim’s
left their grease along lips licked while contemplating
how many foxes this back road has absorbed.
Pastures are glassy in morning like dew covered
webs barn hung. The old cabin
wears its familiar frowning face. Derelict shed lingers
in fog streams like rejection. Ghosts begin to bargain
with one another about who gets to touch me
this time. Night begins all encompassing. Heavy. Union
soldier, dusted in howitzer smoke, stares at me near
the cliff of blankets. Eyes heavy with war glare like
a bobcat through hawk-hovering woods. Why this ghost? Were we
once devoted to one another? Did I promise I’d wait
and that’s why you have yet to pass
your wandering soul into light?
You prefer darkness. My
Darkness. You ache like winter bones
to be seen
when all I wanted was to
remain not found.
Leah S. Jones is an Italian-American writer who grew up in Durham, North Carolina. Although temporarily uprooted as a military spouse, she loves exploring new places with her husband and three children. When she is not with her family, on a trail, or overspending at the local nursery, she is writing both fiction and poetry. She received a bachelors in history and has an MPA. Her poetry has been published in Ghost City Press, Eunoia Review, and The Line of Advance Journal. She received the 2019 Editor’s Choice Award with ACHI Magazine for her novel Diving Horses. You can find her on Instagram at @l.j.solari.