Old Things

I Remember

Opening a

Marked

Door

For you

 

You Walked

Through it,

And a word

Was carved

For you

 

A Sorrow

Great:

Where girls

Break

Like waves

Through

Cemetery trees

 

A Bird

Crying,

If you

Listen

 

A Little

Poem,

Trapped

In its beak

 

Old Things

Never loved

Enough

 

Keep It

Straight,

Keep her

Guessing,

Keep writing

About the

Door.

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