Fear of the Door

He stopped at the gate when the light ran long Thought he saw it shift where the wall stayed still Just a trick of the hour, a fold in the dark Something at the edge with a patient will Then he started counting the steps to home Checking every pane for a second shape Saying names out loud just to hear them land Like a thin reply might come back too late She leaves one room dark and the next one lit Turns her keys like a code at the narrow door Knows which stair will sound and which board will tell Keeps her breath to herself by the second floor There are coats she won't wear and a road she won't take There are hours she trusts and a train she won't miss Nothing has touched her, nothing at all But her whole life bends round the thought of it Watch how the shadow comes on slow Not with a footstep, not with a name First at the edge where the last light goes Then in the shape of your smallest change Look out, look close, don't let it grow Don't give it the room that it asks you for Some things arrive by never arriving Some things get in by the fear of the door He heard his phone ring in an empty hall Saw the screen go black when he reached his hand Laughed at himself, said the week ran long Said lack of sleep can make a man see pattern Then he took the long way twice that night Passed three lit shops just to stay in glass Learned the weight of a pause in the street behind Learned how eyes can lower and still not pass She keeps the kettle just below a boil Keeps the curtains pinned at an altered seam Marks the post by touch before bringing it in Lets the taps run first to disturb the dream There are words she won't write and a chair turned round There is one half-inch where the window stays Nothing has happened, nothing at all But she's living now by its future weight Watch how the shadow comes on slow Not with a footstep, not with a name First at the edge where the last light goes Then in the shape of your smallest change Look out, look close, don't let it grow Don't give it the room that it asks you for Some things arrive by never arriving Some things get in by the fear of the door And you call it caution, you call it sense You say it's nothing, just being sure But why do you look at the latch that long Why keep that lamp by the bed till four Why know which mirror can hold a room Which streetlight fails at the end of the block Why do you listen before you move Like something is learning the sound of the lock Watch how the shadow comes on slow Not with a footstep, not with a name First at the edge where the last light goes Then in the shape of your smallest change Look out, look close, it's in you now There in the habits you built for war Some things arrive by never arriving Some things get in by the fear of the door I keep one room for the end of the day I keep one glass where I can see the hall I know the hour when the house goes thin I know which silence means nothing at all I have not seen it. I have not, not once Only the reach of it, under the frame Only the dark getting longer than dark Only my hand forgetting its name