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Pteris Cedri

A Door for Dorota

Light from under the heavy curtain down the wall Weak winter light, hard and cold as the corner of the garden Beyond the window, rust forming on the light green door to the woodShed, the wall the color of skin, the shriveled grapes still hanging Since the cats scared the departing starlings away A door is a day, the asters last a month or more In the leaden water, green the color of the sea buckthorn beyond The window with the cut asters bright, the carrier pigeons whirling, Attracting hawks that fall dead into the garden long after the neighbor fires Shot from the birdshot factory that could have been ours Between the wars (a slender tower flaunting the shaft within, The dark red brick worn away but its working again; Droplets of lead drop to form shot as slowly as the hawks fall After the blast, always here, long after he fires (we eat their hearts (And the door opens, and you can sleep in the grass (The curtain is wooden, like in the Cuvillistheater, And the frozen grass is warm to the touch

Pteris Cedri, 2012; this poem first appeared in Open Space, Fall 2009.