Poetry Porch: Poetry


When I Was Able to Look
By Jennifer Barber

Behind the first door I saw
                        a tricycle at the curb.

Behind the second door
                        stars dropped like fireflies.

At the third I beheld
                        an infant wailing in my arms.

The fourth opened to
                        a mule turning a mill stone.

I came to the fifth door
                        down a hallway of sloped walls.

At the sixth I unclasped
                        my necklace of clay beads.

At the seventh door
                        I removed my shoes.

Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Barber.