INVENTORY OF WHAT THE DOOR ADMITS
One library card, uncreased, unnamed
One pair of shoes below regulation size
One morning, southern, 12 degrees exactly
One shaft of light that knows where to fall
One shadow containing the blueprint of a building
One clock no one has set yet
One breath held at 84%
One coastline, visible only from the corner of the eye
One Saturday with all its hours still sealed
One pedestal waiting to become ordinary
One child who has not yet arrived
One door, opening inward