I began this poem in 1998 and finished it a decade later. It was finally published three years ago this month. It seems to speak to our increasingly fractured online times.
I live with my door shut.
You can’t come in.
I am alone in my completeness.
I am complete, alone.
I am one,
Only.
SLAM!
I live with my door shut.
It’s cold in here.
My window is open.
It faces against the sun.
But I am too,
Lonely.
SLAM!
I live with my door shut.
Don’t bother me now.
I have things to do
But not with you.
I am testing
One, two three.
SLAM!
I live with my door shut.
But your hand keeps knocking.
You try to open
But I close again.
It’s only for
Me.
CLICK!
I live with my door shut,
A barrier smooth and cool.
It protects my secrets,
Which melt in the light.
Clutch them inside my five
Fingers.
SHUT!
I live with my door shut,
The hinges rusting.
A quarantine sign
Deters you from entry.
There is sick
Here.
CREAK!
I live with my door shut,
Hoping against hope.
Actually not – I’m
All crapped out.
Seven come
Eleven.
WHAM!
I live with my door shut,
An illusion of safety.
A game of chance
For losers, behind
The eight
Ball.
CRACK!
I live with my door shut,
Schrödinger’s Cat.
See me –
Change me.
Nine
Lives.
HISS!
I live with my door shut,
Hanging by a thread
Over the razor blade of the future.
Not betting on this hand.
Ten
Fold.
