Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Door (2003)


Tonight the sky plays
a game of worship
and burials.

A door keeps us captive,
safe from the rituals
of starflight and moon.

In this room of crimes
language stoops,
defies, and murders.

Our voices straying loud
beyond the walls,
windows, treefigures.

Despair cries out of me;
I am the one you never
knew, nor guessed.


You saw me capable
of broken glass,
bleeding fingers.

The ice, our silence,
was hard - overcrowding
time and movement.

When the door opened
outward, once again
the wind entered us.

I accepted the door then
as my sign of leaving,
my finality, farewell.

And that is to say
we ever so gently
die, and have closed.

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