I shouldn’t have opened the door
(I decided I couldn’t take it anymore)
Shouldn’t have flung open my heart
(She said she would just come once more).
Left again, leaving me all ripped apart.
Not knowing the reason: a scrabbling on the roof?
I just had to go and see this storm’s proof,
Now gelled into rent and hidden autumnal leaves
Akin to slighted tricks up magicians’ sleeves.
No time like now, like the present, some day or this hour–
The gravity of the empty not knowing drags with such majestic power.
I shouldn’t have opened this, my old man’s prison door,
But creatures such as we must go out and must explore.
Posted on August 12, 2021, in Poem and tagged closed door, closed heart, false love, leaves, lost love, love, love like a storm, magic, magician, old man alone, risking, sleeves, slight-of-hand, storms, tricks, try again, yearning. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.