The Door

The green woman from my dream
handed me an ax, told me to break
down the door. I held the ax limply,
hesitating. Break down the door,
she insisted, an overbite to her tone,
this time adding the word goddamn.
Break down the goddamned door.
I lifted the ax, froze.
Her voice softened, a testimonial caressing
of my cold skin, as she assured–
There are no demons in there,
I swear.
What you’re going to find
is what you really fear most.
I knew what she meant, what
wasn’t waiting for me on the other side,
what I feared.
I dropped the ax and walked away,
the green woman’s disappointment trailing behind.
Some fables, you see,
remain unfinished,
especially the ones in which
failure is an option.
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About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of two novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale and Raking the Dust, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at johnbiscello.blogspot.com. Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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One Response to The Door

  1. An overbite to her tone ❤️

    Like

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