Unknocked

Saw her, just a flash of hair

around a corner, by the olives.

Her friend.

I ducked behind a stack of cereal boxes.

Stupid.

It brought it back,

the slow, sour turn,

the quiet anger that wasn't really quiet.

And the door.

That dark grain,

the heavy wood.

I stood there once,

my fist hovering,

a stone unthrown.

The words, all coiled up,

sharp and ready.

And I left them there,

behind the grain,

unspoken,

unheard.