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She keeps coming through doors by Wanda Schubmehl when I least expect it (I always expect it) she keeps walking through walls as if they were air she keeps expecting me to say something casual like oh there you are but the colors of the air around her change from moment to moment and she's walking through doors that are only in my mind and really she can't think I don't notice that she is walking toward me happy in textures and deciding whether to smile She keeps opening doors I don't know are there and comes through expecting a bronze and gold welcome she keeps walking right through the walls I cemented (I always expected the lathing to fall) I'm frozen in place every time she comes toward me untouchable who does that just walking through walls really it just isn't natural what if I open a door and come through it my feet deciding to move toward purple or blue She's opening doors and moving through walls (I don't expect anything) smiling and not smiling spilling purple and bronze as she slips off self-loathing and tries on serenity tries it on for size and for how it will feel to pass over the lintel wearing new clothes I have trouble believing her really it's unusual to meet like this in a doorway she keeps finding doorways as if I'm a wall she expects to walk through
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