Poem | Ken Craft | Judas Door
The Judas Door
After two days, the taproot of absence spears
this house, but nowhere more than the closet
where your perfume and my fear cling
to the fur-lined collar of your coat
against the soft breath of hours.
I fill the hollow inside the kitchen
by cooking and eating summer squash and dill
you planted in the garden last May. I drown
the clock’s maddening by sanding and staining new
life into your grandmother’s mahogany vanity.
The dog follows me as I move from room to room
and, when I stop, rests but does not sleep,
one cloudy eye half-open and wary.
He’s watching that I do not get swallowed,
too. By a door that may not open again.
Ken Craft is a teacher and a writer living west of Boston. His poems have appeared in The Writer's Almanac, Verse Daily, Plainsong, Gray's Sporting Journal, Off the Coast, Spillway, Slant, Angle Journal of Poetry, The High Window, and numerous other journals and e-zines. The Indifferent World, his first poetry collection, was released in 2016 by Future Cycle Press. His second collection will appear in December. You can visit him at kencraftpoetry.wordpress.com.