The Hinge.


[ final draft ]

.

Take your hand off her shoulder

You

With the empathy of a brass hinge

Playing spine

To one grand plank

Of solid mahogany

.

Were the door

To have her way

Such massive progeny of tree

Wood

Not to be cut

And hung

As subject

To the pushing and slamming

Of lesser living

Would choose

The wall.

.

You

.

Up against the wall.

.

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo  2/21/17      All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. Thank you for your respect.

littlebarefeet@msn.com

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6 thoughts on “The Hinge.

    1. Thanks, OF! – Was considering changing the title, calling it “The Wall”. Might serve two purposes: a.) not giving away the hinge right off, and b.) drawing the international crowds who search for, well, The Wall i.e. Trump – get it?? XOX — am SO behind on your paintings and writing…..please, catch me up??

      Liked by 1 person

            1. Interesting. My other friend (who does not, admittedly, attempt poetry) thought it was extranneous – that ending on the “wall” was the true ending. But, I never know for sure what his motives are for saying things, so maybe I will leave it as you prefer for a few days. See how it settles. I’m swamped with music these next 14 days……don’t let me slide! Keep painting, bebs – ! OOX

              Like

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