Alyse Knorr

Alice Shovels Snow Off Jenny’s Front Steps

The house spires up above the branches

She cradles the thick wood handle and tells
herself stories from the stained glass, thinks
Didn’t Lilith love women

The snow is so white it looks synthetic

She pauses at the tones of a fiddle, looks inside
at Jenny smiling behind red glass, dancing
to a TV commercial     swirls her hips in fast
steps all alone in the room and Alice shivers

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