My Front Door

is a survivor.
The finish outside is faded and blistered The dog
stripped paint from the inside
trying to get at the mailman.
We had to nail perforated sheet metal
over the plate glass.
The brass is old and pitted. The brand new letter-slot we installed
we can't use, because the dog
tears up the mail. In winter
we stuff it with newspaper and seal it with duct tape
to keep the heat bills down.
The jambs are ragged with dry-rot
and sticking-out screwheads. The weather-stripping
hangs crooked all around.

No fanlights, drip-plates or other Craftsman-style adornments
and it's an odd size, hanging on to its place
because we can't find another to fit. Tenacious door,
refusing stubbornly to be used as a metaphor for
endings, beginnings, openings, closings, welcomes goodbyes, destinations or journeys! Glass, metal and scarred wood
expressing nothing any more but function--
a door with all the dreams
beaten out of it.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside