Monday, May 14, 2012
Doors in the Night.
Doors in the Night
by james bezerra
Doors dream of running from their hinges.
Of fleeing down the street, in the dead of night.
You can just barely see the pale streetlight yellow glow
glint off a knobs,
of lacquered wood
as they all make their break for it.
A stampede of doors. And a strange awkward wooden thumping;
the sound of all those doors running
echoes back to you,
through your empty front door frame,
which gapes with sadness
as you gape with confusion,
and some small bit of admiration.
“Run door, run,” you whisper as
you wonder where your door is off to.