Door

I am a door,
planted, rooted in the earth
feeling how the grit of the wind
destroys my finish.
my framework holds little to no
architectural soundness
and the green paint has
bubbled, chipped and peeled
from stress and distress.
I am a door.

Beyond me lies what I do
not know, no eyehole to peek through
to the other side. I am
simply an open rift between two
spaces, set to open and close at
times unknown to me, un-set
calendrically,
de-patterned and unlocked
unhinged from solidarity’s wall
hanging free on a breeze.
Open to expose the world to
what is beyond.

Are you certain that you
want to know so well
this purple sky?

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