Thresholds - Tapa blanda

Sinopsis

A door is rarely the point of a story. People remember who left, who came back, what was said before the door closed, what waited on the other side.

The door remembers none of it. It knows only the weight of a hand, the swing of a hinge, the small wear of repetition.

These poems try to stand where those two kinds of knowledge meet.

"

I’ve stood in that hallway

watching double doors
settle back to still,

and saw that a door only

opens and closes—

opens and closes."

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