Sonya Schneider
May
I
A barn swallow builds
her nest nearby
she loops the
sky when we
open the door
and waits for us
to close it
before returning
to her job
of keeping eggs warm
II
Mom didn’t bring
a bathing suit
I helped her
unfasten
the harsh black
straps of her bra
sighing she stepped
into the hot tub
naked save for
the silver clip
that held her hair
in place
III
Calliope hasn’t climbed
a tree since last summer
she bleeds into her
sheets then peels
them off her bed
and hands them
to me to clean
IV
I bend to pick
the camas lily
my fingers
root around for
the small
globelike bulb
Is this the way
the earth
loosens?
V
Weary from wind
the fir trees bend
Calliope reads
in a sunny corner
And I? I refuse to
close the door
Sonya Schneider is a writer living in Seattle, WA. Her plays have been produced in Seattle and San Juan Island, and her writing has been published in Stanford Magazine and San Diego Poetry Annual.