A George’s House
Iron fence rails pinned the sky in place. Maybe
that’s why it didn’t rain much there. Cicadas fairly
vibrated the earth and high grass in the yard.
Every room held some treasure or secret. Letters and
photos told their stories to those brave enough to seek them out. Records, paintings, and sheet music
Inside, the house smelled of another era:
wood smoke and whiskey; frying grease
and stale tobacco; old musty dust.
plunked out on the concert grand by the fingers of
little girls. Fingers that trace carved wood, patterns
on old china; that quest for their stories.
Lacey Pruitt-Thomas was born in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. As an “Army brat” she moved approximately every six months for the first twelve years of her life. After high school, she moved to Western New York, raised her family, and worked in accounting for more than thirty years. When she turned fifty, she enrolled in college. A happy accident led her to attend Goddard College in Vermont where she graduated in 2017 with her B.F.A. in Creative Writing. When not writing poetry, she is working on a literary historical fiction novel, based on an ancestor’s life.