
Cut and Cold
My left hand worries,
it knows about closed doors.
All kids know about closed doors.
Do not enter. Private. Get out.
But my right hand is like
an old woman’s stare – empty,
so I grab the knob, bevelled glass,
cut and cold, and push
that door open on a loose
creak of hinged teeth.
No one. Nada. Empty.
Except for
a green blind,
an old chair,
and a sparrow’s song.
written for Lilian’s dVerse “Door” prompt of 10 May. The image is from unSplash.
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