This is a construct, mere
joinery. If I were a window
or a door perhaps, a wall,
implicit in the lintel, must
pervade. And in the lintel,
piers to irk the load outward,
and beneath the piers —
stone. But what stands,
unremarked, are the holes
purposefully braced, through
which we pass, anterior,
cruciate as the wings
of hoppers that seek
a greater warmth, cruciate
as a threshold. Question
is: what demands the wall
that we must pierce it,
and what wind wills
a door open?
Image: Tom Barrett on Unsplash
Sweet and Bitter Greens 