Size / / /

This is the house that Jack built

in the woods where no one can see.

These are the dim-lit halls he walks

barefoot in the murky night.

This is the red oak floor

sanded too smooth for slivers.

This is the board that creaks

in front of a small blue door.

This is the way Jack's eyes gleam

in a house where no one can see.

This is the way he shivers.

This is the room where Jill lives

alone at the top of the stairs.

These are the sunburst windows

that Jill can never get open.

This is the lacy frost that

Burns skin when ever she tries.

These are the spiders who spy

for Jack from a web over the door.

These are the mice who tell him

when she sleeps or if she cries.

This is the way Jill trembles when

she remembers he wants her to lie.

These are the things that happen if

he thinks she has something to hide.

These are the doors tight shut

in the house that Jack built.

This is the way they trap

the smallest noise inside.




Jaime writes books and stories as well as poetry, assisted by two warrior kittens who help her chase the Muse. In her spare time she's the Poetry Editor for Ideomancer Speculative Fiction. Her poetry has appeared too many places to list in a fifty word bio. You can email Jaime at jaimewrites@gmail.com.
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18 Nov 2024

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In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Little Lila by Susannah Rand, read by Claire McNerney. Subscribe to the Strange Horizons podcast: Spotify
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