Thirty steps to many hearts, hurts and
all these echoes spoken by doors
the singular, the anguished one-way
phone call that cannot reach
the hearts alight in family wholeness
voiced to one another
the child in protest between parents
both of whom would own their time
creaks and groans of lovers engaged
freely in orgasmic pursuit
the inconsolable belly-opening grief
poured to a door that’s closed
and the telephone that rings and rings
in the space where an absence lives
or dies unknown through unhearing walls
doors without keys just a letter-slot
wide enough when the police knock, bend
look, listen, with radio voices, leave
down thirty steps of unseen hearts, hopes,
hurts and lives spoken only by doors
2013 © Andie Davidson
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment. If you choose to login - or register - on this site, a non-tracking cookie will be stored on your computer but your email address will never be published or shared.