Unhinged Doors


In a forgotten place
in a backyard blink
behind a broken house
a stack of wet plywood
a pile of broken crates

where unhinged doors
tilt useless now
slanting from their
truest purpose
as generators of transition

It’s only these items
in this particular order
an empty starling’s nest
a purple boxcar racer
a can of yellow paint
that could attest to
the doors’ former stance

Only there’s no one left
to hear their vibrationless
voices full of empty eulogies
for planks of useless wood


13 thoughts on “Unhinged Doors

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