doors

I begin again I begin

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i know this is not tidy or attractive but it’s what I’m doing lately. sitting in the dark writing with my finger.

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Because you left / my door open / I got out

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after work last night i went to sit on my deck for a while because September. the cats moaned in agony when they saw me out there and repeatedly hurled themselves at the glass of the sliding door. they aren’t allowed on the deck because they jump off it, twelve feet to the ground, and then cower in terror in the back yard but refuse to come in. things are very mixed up in their heads.

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Out of all / the windows - / doors

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my office at work looks out across the Wisconsin countryside. there are at least twelve silos and fourteen barns visible from the office window. they’re all far away, on the horizon, so i never see any people on the farms. just these containers. there are miles of empty field between us.

when i can’t think at work i sit and look out the window and imagine walking across the fields to a barn and opening one of those big doors and walking inside and closing the door and just being part of the farm for a while.

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5 thoughts on “doors

  1. susandiri says:

    hey, Melissa, here is a UK drizzle, a new set of doors, several new keys. & splendid vespers-like song/prayer at the cathedral—that must be my faith showing! can you believe NFTG! or have only poets who submitted stuff been notified as of yet? drizzling day/night. new keys baffle me in the drizzle. dogs around, but cats, no. enjoyed yours. also your last haiga.

  2. Peter Newton says:

    first post I’ve read of yours in awhile and instantly, moved by these barns, these barn doors, the need to be inside. . . my response: y e s

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