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.


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