Door of Air: Poems by Morgan Yasbincek

By | 1 February 2022

door of air

eight of us under this ceiling, seven standing, one
supine then four sitting, three standing, one
supine, fingers interlocked over ribcage

seven people speak between dumplings
of quiet, not all of them entered with us
some left by the family before, they
filed out like a rosary of sorrow

room has two lungs, not like a heart
with its lop-sided cross, two lobes, one
curtain, one doorway of air at its left edge

nobody has ever, nor ever will

this division

because a world on one
side dreads the world on the other, though
One is the umbra of the other

this is a case of human
breaking at the threshold
of the door of air

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