What would you conceal?
Or open to. Could you unfurl

your fist to daylight
and shudder loss away — one key,

one digit, one death — presuming the universe
and all its hinges available for inspection

behind yet another unlatched presence.
And this spinning disk,

how shall we step off? Every moon
sheds its coat. Listening, I turn the knob.


“Door” first appeared on the blog in September 2016.

23 thoughts on “Door

  1. Pingback: This Door | The Writer's Village

  2. I enjoyed your piece so much so that it inspired me to try my own hand. I liked its expansiveness and retraction. Like the universe itself, maybe. Your personification of the door: the fury of the door’s fist while its closing off of its the pangs and pains, the questioning of the universe and whether it was open for inspection, a mirroring of the door itself, and how you bring us back as individuals standing behind the door, a door, waiting, anticipating, perhaps to see, to listen, to discover for ourselves. So much in so few words. Thank you. Very nice.

    Your impression on me is captured here: – if you care to visit.


    Liked by 2 people

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