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1 poem

by Melissa Leigh Gore

Melissa Leigh Gore is a poet and web developer living just outside of Boston, MA. Her poetry appears in Glass: A Journal of PoetryDrunk in a Midnight Choir and Pamplemousse and her reviews in The Rumpus. Find her online at

a very narrow set of stairs

I can’t stop thinking about Dr. Ford

and her two front doors


the way her need for escape 

became inescapable


my doors, too numerous in dreams, 

swing inward, the record groaning 


in reverse, crystal doorknobs 

a rattling chorus of snakes


we pray at the altar of one 

changed detail, pray to emerge


without that fingernail of fear 

pressed deep in amygdala clay


the needle stutters over this groove again and again


on the bus this morning a man talks

to his wife on the phone about sod


the relative merits of having or not having 

grass at its full height in front of their door


maybe she needs this too, wields her 

own sandpaper against the unspeakable


no more naked dirt for her back to press against

no rock to catch the lip of a flip flop in flight,


just the grass green enough on the other side of the door

for each blade to whisper: it cannot happen here

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