upstairs there's a door


upstairs there's a door
we've never opened,
a room that sleeps
comfortably above us --
such a quiet, shy idea
we keep forgetting
it's an option, a space
we could move into

finding the painted hinges
behind the desk is like falling
for the same magic
over and over: surprise
and then, surprise

i poke my mind inside,
find a collection
of priceless words we might like
to use, jam jars of laughter,
a fortune in time,
but it's not enough to risk
the disappointment of stale
newspapers, empty bottles

i burrow my finger through the ring
that once held the lock,
but i can't taste any difference
in the air on my hands

so i sweep around it,
carefully polishing, but never
lifting, the latch