letting all the hot air out.” I peer
from the doorway towards our forested
backyard and wonder when I
will see a figure moving slowly
towards the house. in all of the
movies, when the girl stares out at the
trees long enough, something
made of nightmares becomes, appears,
approaches. the figure
must be the same for everyone,
because it always moves the same,
mimicking the wind, walking on air,
through time. “did you hear me, I
said shut the door!” it gets up from
its chair. I turn, realization dawning
that the figure need not
come from the trees, as it has been
in my house all this time.
Ophelia Monet (she/her) is a 2025 Best of the Net nominated poet, high school teacher, storm chaser, and mother. She lives in the suburbs of Cincinnati with her husband and their son. She is the editor-in-chief of wildscape literary journal. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Hobart, Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine, Ink and Marrow Lit, Loud Coffee Press, Heimat Review, The Orchards Poetry Journal, The Inflectionist Review, and more. You can find her on Instagram at @mysoullaidbare.
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