The Door:

When I first heard you on the phone
your voice had to be that '40s wartime voice
for it to get under my skin like it did,
after seven years asleep.
 
You’re at the beginning of something, you said,
and I’m at the end of something;
but you didn’t go away,
twice-born, three times, coming around,
rough cello.
 
                                   Late days
I want to drive to your grave,
But I don’t belong to it.
 

Jean Valentine, "The Door:" from Shirt in Heaven. Copyright © 2015 by Jean Valentine.  Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.coppercanyonpress.org.
Source: Shirt in Heaven (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)
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