From Under the Door
September 22, 2011 § Leave a comment
Because it’s almost October:
The ghost of the bells
Unfurls slowly from under the door,
Dressed in poppies and boots;
Flying out from the wall,
Scrawling in the air,
Gesturing from the mirror,
Rising unnaturally from the floor,
Thrusting a shadowy pillowcase
A few inches from my fingertips.
Loud banging and the rattle of doors
Stand in for significant conversation.
Once I saw him eating wet sand,
Surrounded by gull tracks,
Rubbing dirt into his plate.