dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: box

and open doors
but when you’ve finished
slide them softly
back in their frames

like you would
a bed of matches
resting, waiting
for darkness in
their box with words

a boundary
like a cliff
with only hovering birds
and the crumbling rock edge
to break strength
and silence.

a silent space

hangs on a tightrope

between our chins.

it’s not empty,

just quiet

like the locked

medicine cabinet,

like the plastic storage bin

dusty in the attic,

like the black box

that survived the fire.