A
Yellow Door
When I slip out at dawn for the paper
or
Muscle in groceries from the back of the car
Dog gone all charcoal smudged behind
the screen
Whether losing a few minutes to church
People witnessing like salt and pepper
Shakers from the front porch, galloping heat
Up through the sober soles of their brogans
Lest they forget their toehold on the lip
That rims the eternal lake of brimstone
or
Emerging sinners bathed in the
honeyed
Liquor of salvation abiding in
A sunset stroll downtown,
enticed by a
Niggling alter call we barely
make out
over choirs of cicadas,
Communion
taken knee to knee at a street
café
Coming or going, going or
coming
shot as from the barrel of a
cannon
or
limping back in on a wing and
a prayer
Only a yellow door will do,
perhaps
A snarling lion knocker we’ll
ignore
On lazy evenings slow as
broken yolk.
