Open and Closed

light as my wedding ring,
the light picks locks
an open room is a dead room,
the possibility of possibilities
closed like a fist.

Open is the penultimate
killer of the night and levees.
What breaches in the dark
but an energetic lockpick
revealing the world as
gnarled as yesterday.

Punched clocks
and punched walls
the craters of the moon,
pulverized rocks in the bags.

I am beaten
like batter in my room.
Jangle.
My door swings open.

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