Poetry

Stephanie’s War

Standing on her balcony, she’d rant down at our courtyard, You’re a nasty person, you’re very nasty, though she scarcely knew you. Stephanie was old and lived alone.  She had a screen of potplants by the railing; she fed them, spoke to them and watered them twice daily, which was chiefly when she opened up on any innocent walking in the courtyard.  She was convinced the people in the flat below used radar to track her movements room to room She’d wake them, banging the floor at 2am. A stream of haggard tenants came and went. Stephanie was Jewish, she…

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