I wandered nowhere special in my past,
just drifted, looking, lonelyish, half-arsed.
Nor in my present is there brilliant light–
I drift, doze, dream, enjoy the day and night.
What then will help me through a magic door?
Sensing the future’s avalanche downroar.

*****

This was published a couple of months ago in Snakeskin. Thanks, George Simmers!

“The Magic Door” by h.koppdelaney is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0.