Here is a poem I wrote. Its a poem based off of Dickinson's door imagery, an image that appealed to me wherever she wrote it. Tell me what you think!
The Door stood staring
so enter, if you will
the portal next to my cold hand
or don't, it doesn't matter
I know you will be back
sometime in your life
When the golden day
has ended and gone away
when the purplish tinge
has faded to obsidian
when your hands are pale ghosts
horrifyingly swirling, shrieking
now you'll seek that very aperture
Cool, calming, roughly ornate
and you will magnetize yourself
Steel unto the knob
and open the thing
with a rictus of terror.
when all you see past that door
is an upturned basket
shining in ink
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment