screen doors
rap hollow wooden frames
with every little breath — tap…
tap… ta-TAP — following judgement
for acting according to their nature

none have come to oil
rusty hinges, to reset worn, shoddy
frames brown with dust and the grime
of ordinary living; none have come
to patch the thousand tears and snags
that let in so many pests,
for it has slipped the mind;
and none have come

imperfections from the start,
but promoted otherwise: the worst kind
of idealism; how to mend
what goes unseen? seeing more than
there is, because that is the way

and again: tap… tap… ta-TAP
with the breeze; because it is needed,
is the only way, they swing

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