dad loves
to lock our
broken
oak
door.
he traipses
towards the
door
and slides the silver
lock to the left.
and he seems to feel
relaxed now
that he has locked
everyone else
from his life.
I've watched him
in futile
frustration
wondering why he wants
to keep
everything
locked inside
himself
and this pile
of pink bricks.
And
I
wish
I had
the combination
to his lock,
and that I could
be the
pick
to his secrets,
that it was me
who
unlocked his silence
after all these years.
with a key and a click
I'd kill to open
what makes him tick.
open him like
an accordion
and find whats
between the folds.
for now I
follow him
and twist our
lock open,
hoping he will
get my point.
