Recovered Excavation

A red door
in a basement
is someone’s memory
of her father. Removed
from the must
and toad populated
puddles beneath
the stair, it still hinges
on a human hand
to be moving.
Danish teak
furniture had nothing
to do with it.

Burning Fluid

How many walls will she paint orange
before the urge to find replacements
dissolves in spirit

of turpentine? It is a question she doesn’t need
to answer till other colors haunt
her, flash inside her eyelids

in jealous rages, till another violent act
unfolds flat against this bare surface.