#Night #poem

“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

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/91876/the-door-5858542c3fbdf