Hard Like That by Monica Flegg

At first, we closed only the screen door which allowed air, breath and feelings to sift through. My heart was root bound. Shoots slid under the screen, across the mossy threshold—stretching back to you. The storm door needed to be closed. We shut it slowly like an ice cube watering an orchid. I turned the lock. You slid the bolt. Shutting doors is one thing, but have you ever tried locking

a door with a tendril
of a pumpkin vine? Shutting
hearts is hard like that.

Monica Flegg lives on Nantucket Island where she walks dogs of various breeds, reads poetry of all creeds and generally has a lot of fun. Her writing has been published in numerous publications including; RAR, Right Hand Pointing, YCR and Sicklit Mag.