Sonambient I Sit in my kitchen and whisper your secrets: My floor is rarely vacuumed. I wish I hadn’t left my job. I wish I’d left my husband. My floor is rarely vacuumed, but the door is always open. My sister says, I wish I could leave my husband. We warm ourselves with mugs of tea. My door is always open, my sister says, her laughing face appearing in the window. I warm up water for a mug of tea, trace symbols in the steam. The house glows. I miss seeing my sister’s laughing face in the window. Darkness falls; I murmur prayers as I work, trace symbols in the steam. The candle glows on the tabletop, keeping watch. Darkness falls; I murmur prayers as I work, place another divining rod on the tabletop, keeping watch. Someday my sister will return. Each year I replace the divining rod; my floor is still not vacuumed. Someday my sister will return and tell me why she never left her husband. In response to Sonambient by Harry Bertoia at Kentuck Knob, Dunbar Township, Pennsylvania
Megan Stolz’s writing explores life, loss, and spirituality. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in JMWW, Lakeview International Journal of Literature and Arts, Rogue Agent Journal, and others. A Californian, she lives in the Washington, DC, suburbs with her family. Find more writing at https://www.meganstolzeditorial.com/creative-writing.