The Old Christenberry House
A dormered ceiling, hung
with rose-sprung paper, slants
over the narrow bed
like a mother bending low
to murmur a lullaby,
and through the dark frame
of a double-sashed window,
the pale smudge
of moon drifts behind
shadowing pines,
a blank of darkness
stubborn in its abandonment
of light, and hidden,
the far screams of a barn owl.
In the next room
a baby cries and cries.
~
Jamie Elliott Keith lives in Knoxville, Tennessee, where she writes and volunteers in the community. She has recent work in The Tule Review, Rust + Moth, and forthcoming in The James Dickey Review and Appalachian Heritage. She is co-editor of the poetry anthology Familiar Landscapes (Iris Press, 2015).
~
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