taylortrauger

Written in class in the grass. First lines taken from Louise Glück’s “The Wild Iris”

At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

I cannot open it
until I’m ready
to cross the threshold.

It’s unlocked,
perhaps ajar,
the smell of blooming lilacs
creeping through the crack;
freshly mown grass
thrown in the air by gusts
of wind;
the perfume sucked into my
lungs; so deeply it tickles,
flirts with my heart,
pushes on my
ribs.

I cannot open it until I’m ready.

I don’t know what’s on the
other side
but I can see myself
standing there–
am I alone?
do I mind?

My fingers touch the handle–
colder than I expected–
like a sunny Spring morning
just after sunrise;
blue skies invite you out
of bed,
but the chilly breeze
tastes bitter on your tongue,
whips the skin on your tattooed arms.

I cannot be ready
until I’ve opened the door.