screen door
Screen Door
by Robbi Nester

To Leslie

Chipped green door, old grass losing its spring under the foot.
Heavy, too heavy for the frame. Banging each time it closed.
We were 5, two little girls, Play-Doh underneath our fingernails.
The screen door was awkward for a child, not flimsy like the others
on the block—stodgy, dodgy, opening with a shriek. It matched
the green door in its forbidding stiffness. Hard wind lashed, smashing
the screen door, slap, out of your palms, sent it spinning across the lawn,
shards of glass and twisted metal. Cyclone, my father touching down,
sweeping everything away. He grabbed your arm, another person’s
child, no barriers, and whipped you while I watched and wept,
at once grieving and relieved that someone else
could share the burden of his rage.

PHOTO: Mid-century screen door found at

Robbi portrait in brown suit, 2019 copy

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Robbi Nester stays mostly behind her door in Orange County CA. She is the author of four books of poetry, the most recent Narrow Bridge (Main Street Rag,2019). She is the editor of two anthologies, The Liberal Media Made Me Do it! (Nine Toes, 2014) and an ekphrastic e-book, Over the Moon: Birds, Beasts, and Trees– celebrating the photography of Beth Moon, which was published as a special issue of Poemeleon Poetry Journal. Her poetry, reviews, articles, and essays have appeared widely in journals and anthologies and on websites.