This poem, by Math Jones, is simply divine with undertones of escapism and curiosity. Enjoy.
The door. Shuts.
So you would not know
That someone had gone through.
And everyone ducks.
As if it might have been their turn.
But always, in the end, it is a slam.
Flat, unfeatured -
You might not know a door was there at all,
So blended it is with the surround.
But like a wall, it only keeps you out
When it is there.
You might think it has a handle,
That you might have a handle,
On it. A key.
That you may have seen it open, sometimes,
In a dream.
And you cannot place an ear.
For all that may be heard
Is on this side. Is on this side.
I am not sure
If it is ever open, that door,
No matter how hard it may be shut,
And I will wake to find myself
Already on the other side,
Gazing, from the darkness
At the light left shining in the hall.