In the Place of Cold Doors
We have a word for everything,
or seven for nothing. Soon
you’ll enter and I’ll talk
on the other side,
watch for signs in every
dropped crumb,
every nailhead and
embedded phrase remembered
in another’s voice. The light
will dim and I’ll look for rain and
go on speaking. My words will wander
unnoticed. You hear only yesterday.
“In the Place of Cold Doors” first appeared in Gossamer: An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry, published by Kindle Magazine in Kolkata, India. I was thrilled to have several poems included in the anthology.
O at the Edges 
So poignant. Makes me remember my mother’s last days. The knowing and the not wanting to know.
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This was written three years before my dad died. There were still many bright moments, but his last few years were often tough to handle.
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I do understand. Beautifully written.
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Poignant for me, too
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Thank you, Derrick.
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idk why but it gave me chills.
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Then I have done my job properly. Thank you.
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Poignant–but it gave me the chills.
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I hope just a few shivers. 🙂
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Thank you. The poem reminds me to work more on mine. Take care.
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You take care, too!
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“watch for signs in every / dropped crumb, / every nailhead” … conveys palpable desperation for something that likely no longer exists … torture with no one to blame.
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One looks for miracles, knowing they won’t come…
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Amazingly deep turns of phrase. This is what poetry should make you feel like.
Meno<3
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You are very kind. Thank you.
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The praise is well deserved! Thank you for sharing with us!
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Beautiful and perfect…
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Thank you, Daniel.
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Beautifully written and emotionally resonant.
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Thanks very much!
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go on speaking robert
through prufrock’s yellow fog
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Which doesn’t quite resemble purple haze…
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not quite
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but then
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