April 22, 2009

The Door

The Door, by Charles Simic

Step up to the door.

Softly, softly
As if approaching
A house of cards.

Bare feet allowed.
Dogs allowed.

The sun and the moon and the evening
Wind allowed.

In the shadow of this door
You'll play in the smallest theaters
With a bit of dark gravel
And a solitary white bread crumb.

The door that thinks
With your eyes
Thinks and thinks
Even while you're away.

If you can find a doorstep,
Carry your bride over it
And leave your shoes behind
Alone with the night falling.

If you can see a keyhole in this door,
Put your ear against it
And listen to the sounds of love
On the other side.

Don't try to open the door.
The child you were once
Will come out with eyes blindfolded
And lose itself in the crowd.

The door opens by itself
While you sleep.

All keys you ever lost,
All rusty keys
Lie behind it unused.

The door opens by itself.

Do you have a poem you love, and want to share? Inaugurated by the Academy in April 1996, National Poetry Month (NPM) brings together publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools, and poets around the country to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of businesses and non-profit organizations participate through.
image from my files

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