Gentle with thresholds

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I r o n   W i l l e d

Monument Square

Camden, South Carolina

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In one or two lives
I opened the door with the prize
only to find the prize was not worth the life.

I wanted the door.

Brave mahogany door, you be my fortune.
Teach me to understand the jungle cry
in your grain, the suffering circles

by which your tree wisdom is known.

I was superior with handles,
gentle with thresholds. Then, this.

Choices at morning hours I usually skip
but there is a little cash flow of beauty
where there is almost no more water.

And there is not room and light enough
to stand behind the second
and listen anymore --

I am going through the language of me now.

I am flipping open the dictionary of myself
with my tongue, as if that were possible,
to find your first word.

In the torture of a foyer
doorless for entering, I am entering none.

= Elizabeth Metzger =

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Happy Thursday