Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Closed Door

I beat and pound and beat and pound

on that door, that ash oak door.

Just as I turn my heel to leave it closed,

the door yawns open, and pulls my head back,

as if it hooked my ear on a string, a silk string.

Inside the light is bright, but clouded,

and up above I see a ladder with angels,

but instead of the heavens,

I see the wrong wife,

frowning with guilt in her eyes.

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