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 


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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