Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Behold, I stand
at the door, and knock
and pry and curse and hammer
at you, your dead lead seams,
at your rivets fastened like truths
to cast ironies of steel will;
all Sunday in the upper room
I knell the sledge on the spikewedge;
it is a steeple-bell ringing-in
the light to darkness locked
like doubt within, so sparks
from my head wink like votives,
like angelfire, like prayer embered
in the tinder of your chambered heart;
O, I will not let you go
until you bless me, though
my grip numbs with the sting of the blow.

Lo,

your hinges tithe an open space,
a place for me to slip the bar
and wedge a breadth of air,
and there, at last, you are

open to me --

And now:
What within?

45-8-33

A scrap of parchment. Nothing
more. Nothing on it
but the key to open open doors
and pieces of a lock I have already
raped and made broken.

we don't have a "Like" button around here but thank God we do have a smilie or two -

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well done....the wrong combination laughs at you, like you are just a powerless man...

A smilie from here ...YouTube will get you into any combo lock....