It’s an old door,
And it doesn’t fit the jamb anymore.
It doesn’t always want to shut.
Its tendency is to stay open.
It gets arthritic and sticks
When it’s sultry outside,
Or just before it rains.
The paint is chipped a little
Here and there on it
From me trying to slam it
And make it work, and,
Smudges galore,
Where dirty hands have made their mark,
But the worst part is:
There is only a door knob on one side,
And when the door does shut,
That’s it.
No one can open.
None can enter.
None can come through,
Not to bring,
Not to take,
No, not even to be.
Sometimes I think about
Fixin’ that damn door,
But—I am just so used to it,
And maybe I’m lazy,
Or maybe,
It really is working for me
Right now,
Dr. Phil.
-jenn long
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