Door

by Ann Lauterbach

Small incident last among closings
a singular display confirmed

not the risky allowance of fate not
accruing slowly as in a habit

certainly not mere weather not
choosing a hinge or a lock

entity spreading outward voracious as oil
the collapsed wings trapped

a condition and its picture
what was once shuttered

allowing light in allowing the moment
to resist passage yes

that endowment the image
simple recursive

darkly enfolded—
ancient as night traversing loss

and the abrasion
an appeal to be restored.

From: 
Door