“The Big House,” New Era, Aug. 1992, 26
Today I ran
from the busy street
across the wet lawn
to the large fountain
and the marble steps which I climbed
to grab the cold brass handle,
like I do every day,
banging open the large wooden door.
Then I stopped there in the front hall,
and I saw my wet footprints on the shiny marble floor,
so I backed away, slowly,
to the cold cement porch
in the corner by the gate
and I crawled up like a potato bug
and waited to be scolded.