Off
This afternoon I listen for the pop
of the pickle jars
to ensure their sealed lives.
Outside a yellowjacket bores into a hole
on the hummingbird feeder
and flies out of another one.
Nothing enters that isn't allowed.
On my hands and knees,
like my mother
used to do,
I wash the floor,
scraping grit out of the corner
with a fingernail.
The rocking chair moves back and forth.
Someone sees my fear
boiling over, dousing flame.
We are afraid of everything and nothing.
Outside I chop into the arterial weeds
that invade my garden
and warily watch a bat
suckered to the wall.
Donna Isaac has been teaching English and writing for 36 years and cannot wait to stop grading papers and start writing some more of her own work. Her most recent publications have been a broadside, "Bathing," published by Red Bird Chapbooks and her poem "Sestina" in Red Dragonfly's anthology, Perfect Dragonfly. Her website: donnaisaacpoet.com..