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My closed door
My closed door, do you care?
when you are in the open air
i wonder why?
the liethal smell of diesal
pollutes and purifies my sky
make it bright, make it dark
i pour out my heart, im a fool
while you pour out the fuel
on the gate, with my hate
you do it, the tulips
its not right, the statice-
rememberence, and my aster
for flaming the fence
you take the patience
carnations down the drive
spark the match now light
hello hell! your naked floor
will you burn my closed door?
poem
by
Daniel McCann
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