Leather<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We wandered through streets of houses,
\neach a different possibility;
\nthe black cat curled up on the front mat
\ncould have been mine,
\nlooked like mine<\/p>\n
As we walked in the door,
\nI imagined our clothes in the closet,
\nour dishes in the sink;
\nthought where we\u2019d put your TV,
\nwhere I\u2019d place my speakers<\/p>\n
I imagined the counters cluttered,
\nthe newspaper spread out
\nacross our kitchen table;
\nwaking up to you
\nstanding at the stained-glass window<\/p>\n
We tried the house on like new shoes,
\nwalked around\u2014
\nour toes already beginning
\nto stretch the leather<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Originally published in Cascadia Review.<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lisa Fusch Krause resides in Seattle, Washington, with her husband, teenage daughter, and two black cats. As a long-time professional editor, she is immersed in words for a living. Lisa has published both poetry and prose in journals such as\u00a0Respuestas: the Neruda Project,\u00a0<\/a> Artsmith<\/em>, Cahoodaloodaling<\/em>,<\/a> Cascadia Review<\/em>,<\/a> and Scissors and Spackle<\/em>.<\/a> She thinks of her writing in terms of \u201csnapshots,\u201d capturing images and moments of time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Leather We wandered through streets of houses, each a different possibility; the black cat curled up on the front mat could have been mine, looked like mine As we walked in the door, I imagined our clothes in the … Continue reading