The Wobbly Doorknob

The brass doorknob leans, almost a nod,

a wobbly shake that almost slips.

I grab, the world tilts,

a moment caught in shifting metal.

Not steady, not quite broken—

but close enough to remind

how some things, like me,

just barely hold their shape.

The door yawns open, half invitation,

half threat, like life’s loose screws,

where balance is a question,

and holding on is shaky.