Gone Door

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Gone Door

 

I’m pulling myself awake

From the anvil of sleeeeeeeep

I rip my eyes open 

An upheaval 

Looking forward

The door to my bedroom has been paved over 

Just a blue-grey wall

No seams

I’m pinned to my bed

And the anvil sinks deeeeeeeper

I grip my sheets

Every cell full of lead

I wrench my head toward the corner 

A small red door 

Lingering

above my bed

I try to reach toward it

I think

I’m lucid dreaming 

I wish 

I could 

get out

and look 

in the mirror

Like they say to do 

When you learn lucidity 

If there is no enemy here

Why do I want to escape so badly?

 

The red door

Gets paved over

 

And I’m all alone 

And heavy

And paralyzed

With only the anvil to cling to

 

And then

I remember,

I am the door.

 

 

 

 

Where did all the anvils go?

 

 

 

 

I see one

Atop the mini hollywood sign

 

 

Where it sits 

Upon my dresser

 

 

It’s a beautiful meteorite I picked up in Arizona 

where a meteor fell to earth

50,000 years ago 

 

In the distance my bedroom door

Is wide open

 

I roll over to look to the corner of my room 

 

The red door is gone 

 

And I keep thinking 

 

how my mind created all these escape routes

 

When it knew all along 

 

I just needed to move through it.


Submitted: May 22, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Roxanne Byrne. All rights reserved.

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