Poem of the Week, by Virginia R. Terris

The Uninvited

- Virginia R. Terris

As the heads of state feast with one another, the tables in the

gilded hall loaded with caviar, venison, exotic fruits and veg-

etables and gallons of champagne, there’s a tapping on the

windows. A child’s face, then another, presses against the

panes, the eyes in them black as the night the children stand

in, their mouths open as if they were howling with the wind.

“Who are they?” ask the guests uneasily. “Where did they

come from?”

“Keep them out!” yells the host. “Get Security! Where’s

Security?”

But the children are so thin, they slip under the doors,

around the edges of the windows. Noiselessly. In great

numbers. They move forward to the tables. Their fingers

grip the edges of the tables. Their eyes gaze upwards into the

enormous openings and closings of official mouths.

For more information on Virginia R. Terris (who died last year), please click here: http://www.virginiarterris.zoomshare.com/0.html

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