William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Doors’

That Which Survives

Dragonfly season here is a show of grace; color; delicacy. The insects rise and pause and land with an ethereal weightlessness we don’t associate with the much larger dragonflies of our youth in California’s San Joaquin Valley, where they stood on air and rumbled about in our classrooms at school, entering and leaving freely through the open doors and unscreened windows. During the warm months, which seemed to last most […]

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After the Snow

How much of what I tell is made up? And what part of it is true? All, all. December 30, 2021 . After the Snow A wind has come up — as if somewhere in the earth, perhaps in the ground behind the house, a door, a hatch, previously unknown, has been flung open to admit a sudden gust of hope — gust, spelled ghost, for, just as suddenly, the […]

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Socks, Shoes, Whisk Broom

The socks are of brown heirloom cotton, rising to the ankle, finished without dye, part kiss, part sigh. The shoes happened by, looking for a home. They wait in the closet by the door. Sometimes I hear them in the night, arguing with the whisk broom: Stop pacing. Stop waiting. Shh. Shh. When I open the door, they are mum. Each has a life, like the walls, the dark, the […]

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