liminality

Liminality

is a man standing in the hallway

waiting for one of 

both doors 

ahead and behind him

to open.

Knowing how the countertops

and embossed dishware,

in the porcelain sink or

stacked behind glass pantry doors,

would look in any light of day,

he tells himself to hope

for the door ahead

to open first.

But he tells himself this

while counting the change,

thumb to forefinger,

the coins now greasy with 

fingertip dew,

in the pocket of his gray slacks.

His pants with the sweaty sheen  

of too much ironing

under her hand. 

image source: myheartscreamsyourname

poem: me