Jennifer Saunders is an American living in Switzerland with her Swiss husband and their Swiss-American sons. Her work has appeared in Literary Bohemian, Literary Mama, ouroboros review, Umbrella, and elsewhere.
Reading the Book of Psalms Behind Closed Doors
My light was on when you arrived, your hands
casting away the cobwebs that barred my door.
I had not been expecting you so had not planned
for company. The greasy windows, the unswept floor.
There were no biscuits in the tin. I served you
water from the tap, cold and clear in a jelly-jar.
We spoke of small things as the naked bulb threw
our shadows against the wall. You said you saw me
waiting though I had not been expecting you.
We left that house together. I abandoned the debris
of years and locked the door behind us. I had begun
to believe you would never come, I would never leave.
How many houses did you pass on your way to my home;
how many porch lights flickered in the growing dark
illuminating no one?