Scrittura
Published in

Scrittura

Doors That Won’t Open: Prose Poem

Now the night is endless

If I speak to the edge of your sorrow, will that change the shape of mine?

…the line goes dead, and the line goes dead, and the door won’t open — even the cracks carved out by tears erodes what little of the sacred there is left —

so I make a golem with the face of my guilt — flesh deeply carved with the symbols…

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J.D. Harms

Former hairstylist, perpetual philosophy student, swallowed by poetry, writing, ideas