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Lexington Poetry Month

Doorway

06Jun2019
POEM
1

I want to stretch, pull myself apart
and open up. I am a right angle in the dark,
a dusty corner made of wood and nails

watching as the doorway lets in light
too good to reach me. Now and then
I catch a spider, a ray of afternoon sun

flickering through the curtains. Once a toy,
lost briefly by the girl, spun into the fork of
my intersection and it felt like ringing church bells.

Nothing here lasts long enough to enjoy. All
I can think about is that doorway and its width,
how they all pass through so easily and give it

a purpose. If I could unfold and puff myself out,
cut a hole through my center for the light to come through,
invite them to cross my threshold…would I ever sleep again?

Find the cool comfort of those gunsmoke shadows?
Maybe the dust would never settle, but only dance
in the atmosphere and keep me awake. Maybe it’s enough

to sit silent and hungry, waiting for the day to restart
or for the walls to decide to crumble, a catastrophe
that needs a right angle to fail.


One response to “Doorway”

  1. mtpoet says:

    In times like these, you probably get up and write things as good as this poem…

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