The Door Closed

They had ferreted out tiny tremors,
had been witnesses. Why the steadfast
gloom? As the ones who had maimed,
or been maimed? Was he hung up
with remorse?

I’m glad he wasn’t crumpled but was
left standing in a shrine of his
own making. He had brooded, been
brought back from the brink
at the tail-end of things.

Adrienne told us about the phone call.
By now there’s no dredging up of
old news. The door closed. As if
one must be valiant, and evasive,
leave wearing veils.

Prompt:

Chug, chug. Day 4. Robert Brewer asked for a beginning/ending kind of poem. Either/or, but of course you have to do both. Because an ending is a beginning isn’t it? Think about how one thing ended and another began. So it’s the transition that’s frightening. No one likes to be in limbo, especially if it seemed a chronic kind of situation. So what’s your current situation? Are you starting, ending, or gestating like a caterpillar?

In case you didn’t realize, my prompt is just so you can submit your poem to Red Wolf Poems, and submission there is the same as submission to Red Wolf Journal. Not confused? Good.

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