Patrick Theron Erickson, a resident of Garland, Texas, a Tree City, just south of Duck Creek, is a retired parish pastor put out to pasture himself. His work has appeared in Grey Sparrow Journal, Cobalt Review, and Burningword Literary Journal, among other publications, and more recently in Right Hand Pointing, Tipton Poetry Journal, Wilderness House Literary Review and Danse Macabre.
needs a door
and a door knocker
like old homes have
perhaps of brass
or wrought iron
and the brass tarnished
and the wrought iron rusted
from so many sweaty fingers
needs one who knocks
just outside the door
and one who opens
just inside
with only the door
and the threshold between them
whether the door is open
or closed
An open and shut affair
needs rewording
lest the one who knocks
and the one who opens
be misunderstood
I read of a culture
where only the thief knocks
to see if anyone is home
Friends and visitors
do not knock
but signal their coming
in a shrill greeting
some way off
a harangue
which needs no rewording
lest the knocker
be misinformed
and the one just inside the door
mistaken
with the door and the threshold
between them
and both be wary
and both beware.
Revelation 3:20
and the curtain sticks
to the sweaty walls
Pull off your nightshirt
and your nightshirt sticks
to your sweaty skin
Open the newspaper
and the newspaper sticks
to your sweaty palms
and the newsprint soils
your sweaty fingers
spoiling the nightly news
All the news that’s fit to print
rubs off on your sweaty hands
You’re going to sweat this one out
sweat shop or no sweat shop
And the night sweats haven’t yet begun
And the night soil hasn’t yet been gathered in.