THE KNOCK ON MY DOOR
Much time passes and I wonder why
My door is never darkened with a shadow,
My walkway never clattered with footsteps
And after more time passes I’ll go to my door,
Finding notes written there, nailed pieces of paper
That are now flaked and yellowed with weather and age.
Don’t mistake my aloofness for rudeness.
You may be tapping or even pounding right now
And it’s possible I can’t ever hear
The knock on my door –
I’m too occupied
Listening to me.
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
Fixator Press 