Wind battered the house for an age and I spent the better part of my day off rehanging the gutters that fell in last night’s thunderstorm hours consumed watching online videos to guide this maiden foray climbing the ladder, reattaching the screw. Yes, I know I have a need to fix what’s broken: the old thermostat that insisted on 80 degrees in summer the cracked wooden door ushering in the cold the sniffly stray ginger kitten blind in one eye. This house will be the most perfect refuge. So when panic rattles your shutters I will take you in my hands stuff your holes with omelets, roasts, sautéed greens convince you that loving doesn’t hurt that it won’t leave you wandering an unlit hallway climbing a hedgerow of thorns. Once a cabinet door came loose and I left it hanging on the hinge pretended not to see it. I didn’t last long before fetching the screwdriver painting scratches in the varnish the dings closed over.
Christine Taylor identifies as multiracial and is an English teacher and librarian residing in Plainfield, New Jersey. She is the EIC of Kissing Dynamite: A Journal of Poetry and the author of The Queen City (Broken Sleep Books, 2019) and Petal (Bone & Ink Press, 2020. Visit her at www.christinetayloronline.com.