A surreal & fantastical poem about hinge, door, frame, light, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
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The hinge has lost its old complaint. The door swings through an unfamiliar room. I carry the same body with me, but it fits the frame less well. Some changes announce themselves; this one leaves the light on.
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A silent shape outlasts the speaker's interpretive impatience and turns waiting into a form of encounter.
An object out of place becomes more truthful by refusing to return to where the speaker expects it.
A contemporary poem about the farther room, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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