Tiny Voice


My sister speaks so clearly in her sleep.
I am as thin as the wall and you can’t catch me.
She laughs maniacally,
slumbering on my left side,
Mom on my right.
The three of us, bundled up in her king sized bed
to comfort each other from fears of the night stalker.
Was it he who you challenged in your dream?

Years earlier in the haunted canyon house,
Mom a world away and me terrified
of darkened corners that nightlights can’t reach,
I would creep into your room
and whisper in my tiny voice,
Can I sleep with you?
You never said no,
just pulled back the covers
to invite me into the safety only an
older sister’s arms can give.

Susan Richardson

Susan Richardson

Susan Richardson is a poet living, writing and going blind in Los Angeles. She is re-emerging into the literary world after a long hiatus brought about by an RP diagnosis. She lives with an Irishman, 2 pugs and 2 cats. She crochets blankets and scarves for her family and friends. In addition to poetry, she writes a blog called, “Stories from the Edge of Blindness”.
Susan Richardson

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