Turn

Key in hand

Matches the one to my

Mothers house

My dad isn’t there any more

Another one gone so

It’s hers

But this key

This key

Mine

Fits in my hand

Right away

No carving

Scars next to my finger

Wonder how that is

I walk in the door with

Problems and sadness

Sometimes food and

Poetry of

Questionable

Worth

A room of rugs

I tried to kill

And powders and

Sprays

And guitars that aren’t mine

Unless I want them

Access and trust

And how do I pay

That back with words

And pastries

And promises of love

I can’t prove but can

Imagine

And I do

More every day

How can I trust

This turn

This metal cut

To fit me

When my brain

Screams to change

The fissures that I

Dug myself

Deep and wrong

Can a key

Tooth and bite

Fit a cracked and

Clefted doorway

Can it lock out

What blew off the door

And froze the room

The metal warms

And matches my skin

When I hold it

So maybe

It can’t

But

It can turn

If I can

2 thoughts on “Turn

  1. A lovely post, that was splendidly decorated with vivid imagery. Thank you for sharing such a wonderful post! According to your convenience please do read some of my writings would love to know what you think about them.

    Like

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