WEBVTT

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"Sleeping on Doors."

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If we could only see further,
we could look through

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to the other side.

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Such impossibilities, the
death of a sister in August

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leave us frozen in
a kingdom of tongues

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without mouths without even
silence to contain our doubts.

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When we sigh, we
encounter her breathing.

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To each ghost we assign
lamentations like zeros,

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like seeds.

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We would people whole accessible
universes to our need.

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Entrances, exits.

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As if we could
accept lost forever.

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Tonight is the first
closed door, the stone,

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and we lie down on it.

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Sleep on the door, on the door.

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Sleep on the door.

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A way of seeing
past the darkness

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as though we could come
and go as we please.

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