a poem a day for a year #152

by Amy Turn Sharp

the back porch storm door
thin and flimsy
like baby wood or something
old white paint chipped
slamming shut
like a slap in the face
that sound meant everything
the world is happening
wait for it
wait for it
someone is home
someone is leaving
fly to the window
bang up against it
inside of my mind
there many things
words and wants
there are sounds
that bang out beats and memories
that tell the story of my life
in vibrations
the back of my eyelids