Flood Gates

What to take this

Closed locking door

To open with

Kick it in with the

Grit of my teeth

Greeting with the

Soles of my feet

The sweat of a brow

Wiped with an

Unwashed towel

Let me in here

We both are

Cause we’re not

All there

How precarious

Can I let you

Be wary of

This closed locking

Door has a knob

To pour fingers

On. Give it a

Turn or two

And hold your

Breath, on the

Open side hides

Best our feelings

Of breathing.

Flood gates will

Let in the rest.