Epitaph For an Open Door An open door is an imposing sight, so you say. You’d rather rattle locked windows even if your house were alight. Quick, three items: a chunk of marzipan, a silver band, the autobiographies of great men you read, bad men you want to be. So it goes. Couldn’t pretend otherwise even when you lied, couldn’t see past your own lyrics even if you tried. The record splutters to a halt but you’re still dancing to the same beat, don’t know anything but a flame’s heat. So it goes. They say fire has a mind of its own but I’m pulling you out of burning buildings only to find matches tucked into your waistband with a singed dove’s feather and a red right hand. The strike’s note is sharp as the knife you dug into my side, your apologies flat, clenched fists full of pride. So it goes, the only song you know. And I don’t know what to do with you anymore, so I’m writing this poem and slamming the door.
Sasha Ouvry is a British-Singaporean poet born in 2005. She is currently pursuing a BA in English Literature with Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia. You can find more of her and her work at https://www.chillsubs.com/user/sashaouvry.