Friday, 13 January 2017

The Door

The green and blue door, black glass
a summer lawn, scratch 
of a chicken’s claw
repeats over and over, 

sunlight emphasises
the red rubber 
of wattle and comb.

These pieces of the puzzle
she takes apart, reassembles
- over and over again.

A book of poetry confirms
suspicions, more pieces
in the endless puzzle. 

And then, suddenly somehow 
you know what needs to be done 

to open the blue and green door -
see through the glass again.

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