Today's poem is by Miles Waggener
Consider from the door
what you want protected, a country where
the bolt holds its ground and wood gives way
to be patched along the lintel, threshold
where lifetimes are sifted on either side
and blow away. Where are they?
Just a door ajar that oceans are you read,
yet the lock works in terms of one
and many, bits of broken glass in their wake,
an auger's tongue speaking the faces
in wood grain It's me, open the door.
Pollen in the groves dispatched in moonlight,
stencil dabs of bats and whip-poor-wills
when you think it safe to open the door
see earth auger. On either side, there are
the last-ditch efforts in the inclement that you,
that your children become, beneath a wheel
that's never oiled, a screamer on the bridge
the keyhole and its ticking lock. Are you
bound to re-lose what you've lost? As if the key
may at pleasure join that which nature hath severed,
burnished catalyst, second thinker, more than teeth.
What couples tenderly is me, fibs the key.
You can tell from the scarred sill, this house is not
as old as you thought and on either side, you
know each other well.
Copyright © 2009 Miles Waggener All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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