Snow or debris filled this house I do not
remember being in before, while my father
broke window after window, as snow,
or whatever, accumulated inside so fast
I could not remove it. I do not know why
I was there, me, over a decade older than
they lived to be, my mother silent, out
of character, sitting in a small room with
only one chair, staring at me, as if to ask,
You? What are you doing in this house?
Ronald Moran lives in Simpsonville, South Carolina. His poems have been published in Asheville Poetry Review, Commonweal, Connecticut Poetry Review, Louisiana Review, Maryland Poetry Review, Negative Capability, North American Review, Northwest Review, South Carolina Review, Southern Review, Tar River Poetry, The Wallace Stevens Journal, and in thirteen books/chapbooks of poetry. Clemson University Press published his Eye of the World in the spring of this year.