adelina

“Hole In The Wall” by Adelina Kelley

How did you get in?

The hole in the wall is only big enough to poke your nose through.

I see it

sniff,

sniff,

sniffing about–

but never more than that.

I always keep the windows shut tight,

mauve curtains drawn.

All doors locked,

brass key ensuring they stay that way–

tucked promptly away in the spiral roots of my spider plant.

So, how did you get in?

I suppose someone could have invited you in

for hot tea and biscuits,

maybe a raspberry or two…

But that host would have been me,

and I am no good with guests.

So, how did you get in?

There is no evidence of your ingress,

only that you are here,

now,

within my house.

Perhaps, the answer is that you were always here.

Perhaps, you never left.

Rows & Rows” of Teeth by Adelina Kelley

It’s all in bloom.

The lavender, maroon, and eggshell of assorted hydrangeas.

Petals, supple like a moisturized hand,

dappled by the morning dew–

bare their jagged teeth in the garden.

The family leaves them untouched,

uncut,

unwatered,

overgrown.

They pretend they do not,

but they always see them through their kitchen window.

At breakfast,

at lunch,

at dinner.

And when the child stumbles out of bed to grab a midnight snack, they stare.

Sleek and dazzling in the moon's delicate kiss of light,

their edges have softened,

canines of warning ground down to only suggestions of enamel.

The pair of eyes,

peeking from the back door,

may even threaten to extend a finger to them.

A dapple of crimson on the jaws of a great white,

a gory papercut that won’t heal.

Deceived by the petals that remind us of the spring.