Staring at the Door

I draw lines transecting the doorway

Vertical then horizontal

Drab, heavy old thing

I cannot open it, cannot move it toward me, as in this scenario I would have no opposable

Thumbs, thumbs dug into the wet clay of our terrible

Mortality

While You

Let me through every time

To this endless deep

Expanse of night, the wind, the grieving girl who would

Tell you never leave

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