Aside from machines designed to kill
there’s nothing more terrible than a doorbell.
Shall I stay here, hope that whoever it is decides to go away?
The person on the doormat always knows:
can feel the presence of someone trying
to still their breathing
Will circle back again,
maybe take a look through the window
or ring the bell three times longer.
Whatever: they won’t go away and anyhow,
it doesn't feel great creeping around
like a thief in your own living room.
Not that there’s any skullduggery going on in here.
Just this notebook and pen.