Doors
the other out.
On the knob,
the warmth
of your hand,
and now, mine.
Where are you now?
Should I wait
for you, or follow?
The room is quiet.
It rocks gently,
anchored by
what it contains.
I decide to stay,
but I do not
close the door.
The way I feel,
I might never
close a door again.
May 19, 2006
Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author
Main Page
Author�s Note
Background
Notebook
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Interviews
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let�s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Conversation
E-mail & Parting Thoughts
Flippantly Answered Questions