The Child is an Open DoorBy Garrett C. Flagg

A door enters my life without knocking,Without shuffling its shoes on the mat.

Inside me it stands, a freshly turned knob,Porch-light eyes amid the dazzling moths.

I sing. From a jar filled with grass,A twig where speckled legs cling, I sing.

The clock, a silver faucet, dripsUnheard into a bathroom sink.

Cricket, the door calls me, its voicePounding into places farther than clothes,

Where a hat proves too much, and socksAnd shoes deepen, filling with sand.

A darkness fills the room, I tell it.A dark with the light of milk undrunk.

A door swings wide into a medicine cabinet.My eyes are shiny mirrors watered with mint

From the spoon of a star, a green fireMelts my tongue urgent, ready to begin.

I open that door into the child’s eyes.The journey takes all day into a life time.