Poetry 101 Rehab: Lockdown

sometimes,
i trace the locks
that line the door.

they are several
and
they pretend at security.

the air is thin in here,
oxygen tastes like dust
and the wallpaper
droops,
shrinks away from the wall.
(even it doesn’t want
to be here)

it’s a
ritual now
count the locks at night
and double-check them.
the scratch of the keys
is now the most
comforting
sound.

heavy curtains blot out
the world around.
(if i can’t see them,
they can’t see me)

this is home
warm and comfortable
and venturing out is rarely
necessary.
my only company now
is the shadow.

she visits in the day,
tries to coax the locks open –
they are no match for her
spirit-self,
but she would have me leave.

(i would have her
leave)

and so we reside like this,
the shadow and i,
hidden behind rusted-locked
doors.

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5 thoughts on “Poetry 101 Rehab: Lockdown

  1. This is excellent, it actually sent a shiver down my spine as I read it, the sparse words and the tension work perfectly, and that phrase ‘rust liked doors’ implies that both the narrator and the shadow are gone from this world…

    Like

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