Sat, 14 March

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