The thwack of the screen door

The thwack of the screen door

slammed by my cousin, a sudden, sharp crack,

and then the shudder, metal on frame,

a sound that brings it all back.

The humid air, thick and sweet,

clings to the memory of flies,

of bare feet on cool linoleum,

and the quiet, knowing sighs.

That spring, old and stretched,

always fighting to pull it closed,

a summer's history held in its hinge,

where every loud goodbye was disclosed.