Nobody's Home Poem by Louise Marie DelSanto

I parked in front of my mother's house
clenching my hands together, a Christmas
Nativity set burning on the front steps, shades
drawn. No one is home, I think.

My mother will probably wait five minutes before
she answers. My brother will be scrambling
for a place to hide away since we haven't
talked in months. And the dog will be barking.

The man across the street will be staring
out his front window, curtain in hand.
On Wednesdays his family brings him
a Meatball supper and boxes of pastry.

My mother will be
slow to answer 'Wait a minute.' or she
will just ignore the bell and stand frozen
in the kitchen, her shadow in angles
by the back door window.

If she decides to answer I will
be standing in the hallway, and she will
be rushing around, telling me she has
to go shopping or she has alot of things
to do. She will open her cupboard and take
out a bag of candy and hand it to me,
reminding me that things are tight this year.

Or she will not open the door at all, and
call me to say she was down the basement
washing clothes or asleep in the chair.

And the light on the garage will shine
on me as I walk down the driveway.

I will turn the wheel of the car towards the
street, my radio will be playing smooth jazz
as I turn the heat up to warm my hands.
And the old man will be staring out his window
as I slowly pull away from the curb.