Sue Russell

mountain wind swirls crisp leaves
around the trailer house porch

leaving him barely anchored
to the peeling brick-red banister

I think scarecrow until twin twinkling
caverns appear beneath drooping

mottled eyelids
plaid flannel hangs from his shoulders.
his suspenders hold up clown-barrel pants
his belt a useless hoop

I must have fallen down a rabbit hole
when did I become bigger than my father