by  Audrey Walls


Did  I  say disaster?  I meant orchid.  In  Florida,  they  have  lizards  the length  of your arm. That doesn’t mean we have to move tomorrow. We could dig a hole in the backyard and bury ourselves. It would do as much good. I said rancor. The neighbors don’t blink anymore, they just stare as our windows fog up in the rain. Our single- ­paned horrors. We can’t stay. You said listen. But the crickets aren’t calling us home. Their song is retreat retreat retreat.