Sea Locks
Here the keys fit no locks.
Not that I have keys
though if I did they’d be
brass and easy
to fit in a pocket.
Today each object,
the train taking me to work,
the knife to slice the apple,
the shard of broken light on
the floor, even the wall around me,
is a weapon.
Books tough planks to beat me
on the head, or perhaps they’re oars
to ease me out to sea.
Posted 12/21/11