Third Pass

I’m already late, the clock is a threat.

The coffee is cold and the pavement is wet.

But I stand at the door with my thumb on the plate

to see if the lock is a seal or a gate.

The silver is gone where the handle is worn.

The silence is heavy, the morning is torn.

One click for the safety, two for the dread.

Three for the static inside of my head.

It’s tight and it’s solid, it’s home and it’s deep.

A promise I’m forced by my shadow to keep.

I walk to the car with my heart in a knot

unsure if I did it or if I forgot.