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Whoever opens the door is not counting
to see the face of those who come
from behind...

Stabbed in the womb.
The insides unfurled!
Whistling wind
in the cracks…

Whoever opens the door
is not waiting
to have their face licked
by the wind.

The smell of ferns
passing under the door and
the muffled hinges
by the creaking of drying clothes.

Whoever opens the door is not thinking
to take with the door
In the face.
Written by PAR (PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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