White Rooms
Sometimes, I’m afraid of hinges—
the way they pinch the dark, jaws wide
as flowers, no teeth worth saving.
You have no idea how much it hurts
to use periods, God, it takes so long
for the next sentence to start
and I’m tired of shivering
between letters. But I was just
thinking that maybe a sliver
is what men call firewood orphaned
long enough to forget the smell of rain.… Read the rest