Wednesday, March 09, 2005

door


you are out of plumb
crooked painted over and over
white always white a thick crust
of flaking frosting on your surface
balance rectangles a box within a box

you were once a tree several trees
you were once a forest


and you were the wind and the silence
and the light that comes silent and sudden
on the leaves and you had birds
that didn’t know what it meant not
to sing inside you


and I was like you once and it might
have stayed that singing
inside me if only you had a lock


oh mother you were the door
and you let him
walk through

3 comments:

Emily Lloyd said...

Wow. This is perfect. Bravo.

best,
em
poesygalore.blogspot.com

SB said...

Yes, it is.

Christine said...

Thanks, you two. I'm blushing.
I was actually a little frustrated with this one because I couldn't get the line breaks I wanted with this html formatting.