You hold yourself
in reserve, in case
and your hold is easy and calm,
and safest for everyone, you believe
and think. If you turned on your axis
just ninety degrees, you'd slip
in a hole just exactly the shape
your shape makes when seen from just
past this brink, where you catch and hold,
and are turning
again,
as all of you clicks
like teeth and eyes, and slides, as
all of the tumblers in you
spring free -
I don't know what else
it can do or is for, but
for sure,
this key
made of locks
fits me
1 comment:
Wow. I don't really know how to give this poem the comment it deserves, but I just wanted to say that I really like it.
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