portion of the artwork for Iris Litt's poem

Aubade
Christopher Kuhl

A frying pan in the sink,
Crumbs on the counter,
Newspapers by the door,

                           A blanket

Thrown over a chair. Someone
Left the porch light on
All night, and the door
Ajar. These are the signs
Of another life …

In the morning’s white light

I sing you this song:
Let me into your house, your deep-shaded house;
Let me into your house,

And lock the door.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 52 | Fall/Winter 2018