Alyse Knorr
Alice Shovels Snow Off Jenny’s Front Steps The house spires up above the branches
She cradles the thick wood handle and tells
herself stories from the stained glass, thinks
Didn’t Lilith love women
The snow is so white it looks synthetic
She pauses at the tones of a fiddle, looks inside
at Jenny smiling behind red glass, dancing
to a TV commercial swirls her hips in fast
steps all alone in the room and Alice shivers