Ajar
The locks are unlocked,
and the old brass hinges sing.
This door we cannot open is ajar.
The small moon of its knob
is spinning at a carousel's speed.
This door we cannot open is ajar.
The tongue of its latch
is pushed out by a well-oiled spring.
This door we cannot open is ajar.
Now the stage that we curtain
is crowded with things never seen.
This door we cannot close is ajar.
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