|
|
Magnetic North
On the crooked hill down
the lane
there is a house that always has one door open,
when you close that door, another swings free.
The couple that resides there sleeps, the head of the bed
facing magnetic north, and dreams of cities
built on lazy susans so when magnetic north changes
they could shift the streets.
They have a brood of children, all daughters,
and when the children are old enough, give them each
walkie-talkies and confirm that all the doors are closed,
but there is one door open. The father then
seals each door with nails, screws and duct tape,
but there is one door open. He dies suddenly,
his fist shaking in the air. The remaining family members
try to close every door, in his memory,
but there is one door open.
They grow crazy of this predicament,
go into the world, cause stock markets to crash,
teach history in high schools, while the matriarch
stays in the attic, growing old and never dying,
surrounded by two dozen felines
and the smell of rotting cat food left inside the door.
Magnetic North
by David Clink
NOTES:
Appeared in The Antigonish Review, Winter 2004, no. 136.
|
