Through the Trap Door

February 4, 2012 § Leave a comment

He crawled through the trap door

And walked around the fuschia-colored plastic purse,

Inspecting its shiny brass grommets

And the large bow that curled around the handles

Like an unrolled cinnamon bun.

The old woman assured him

Tha it was big enough to sleep six

And still have room to turn around in.


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