POEM ADDRESSED TO A DOOR
(after Olena Kalytiak Davis)
Oh Door, I slipped and fell, Door. Forgot
to read the fine print at the tail end of the document
that consecrates our commitment. Sweet
slammer, finger jammer, rush of wind and timber--
forgive me, Door. I'm less
blind; I opened my eyes to see, Door; I see clearly
the haphazard fineness of your grain, your swirled knots,
those honeyed eyes that see through me.
I'm see-through, Door. Transparent. More window,
less floor: I'm unfloored. I know what lies beyond you
Door, I'm all about the view outside. She's outside.
I'm rising, but inside Door, before you. Everything is splintered
like an axe fell through me, I'm split in two. Let me
pass, Door, one more time; let this not be goodbye.
I still hear footsteps on the other side of you.
Open, Door, wide. I'm wearing boots, I've dropped
my shoulder low. I'm running now, I'm running till I break
Dave Rowley is originally from Sydney, Australia. He now lives in Seattle with his wife Tina and their son Finn. Dave's poems have been previously published in Mimesis, andwerve and Autumn Sky , a fact that utterly fails to impress Finn.