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Ruth Holzer

Holly Park Farm, Bucks County

Two large holly trees stood on either side of the gate, but there was no park and no more farm; the large house had been broken up into half a dozen apartments rented to the community’s transient population. The landlord and his family occupied the ground floor in a suite of sunny rooms stuffed with expensive furniture. My small apartment was so noisy that I had to move the bed into the kitchen; even then, locked-out neighbors would climb the fire escape and look through my windows on the way to break into their own rooms. Couples shouted, stereos blared, an aspiring opera singer practiced for hours directly below me.

my silver flute —
what chance does it have
in this life

The owner had rigged the wiring so that all his electricity was charged to my meter. I refused to pay; long after I moved, I’d get late night calls from a collection agency.

saving
a screaming baby rabbit
from the landlord’s cat