the door stood
crooked
clinging to its frame
one hinge holding on
grip fading but refusing
to let go
beyond the the doorway
the house too was
crooked
everything out of place
just slightly
the couch a few
feet to the left
its decorative pillows
scattered across the floor
a glass shattered, its
pieces forming a puzzle
in the orange juice
it once held
and i stood in the yard
looking inside as
i hung from a single hinge
my life now standing
crooked.
- DanGregory's blog
- Sprout
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