The Breach

It's just a tear, maybe an inch,

in the mesh where the afternoon light

cuts straight through.

I noticed it while standing in someone else's kitchen,

the sun hitting the screen door at just the right angle

to make the hole visible,

to make the breach obvious,

to show how small the barrier actually is

between inside and outside.

Bugs walk through there.

Probably. Definitely.

The tear is big enough.

Nobody's mentioned it.

It's been there long enough that it's just

part of the door now,

accepted the way you accept

a small stain on a wall

you've learned to stop seeing.

But I see it.

The light makes it impossible not to see.

Things fail so quietly.

Not with drama or sudden collapse,

but with this—

a small opening that lets everything in,

and no one notices

until they're already inside.