He’s watching you closely,
my grandmother told me

of the lamb of God,
paint-chipped and faded,

seated on the right side
of the empty fireplace,

quiet where grandpa left it
among old Christmas décor

and house-trained spiders,
earwigs and pill bugs.

My grandmother had caught me
in the den, silverfish pinched

between my thumb and fore finger
and another stuck in my teeth.

William Littlejohn-Oram received a degree in Fiction from the University of Houston and is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Poetry from Texas Tech University. He can currently be found in Lubbock, TX, wearing brightly colored shoes. His work is forthcoming in Inkwell Journal, Amethyst Review, and Ancient Paths.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.