Threshold

You want a door you can be

            on both sides of at once.

                       You want to be

           on both sides of here

and there, now and then,

            together and—(what

                       did we call the life

            we would wish back?

The old life? The before?)

            alone. But any open

                       space may be

            a threshold, an arch

of entering and leaving.

            Crossing a field, wading

                       through nothing

            but timothy grass,

imagine yourself passing from

            and into. Passing through

                       doorway after

            doorway after doorway.