ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 4
SELF PORTRAIT
I am not a poet
hesitating in the shadows of the human door
I am not a poet
for whom the human door has a known handle known
lock known mat with the key under it
I am not a poet
knocking sentimentally at the human door or in
another mood trying to force it open
I am not a poet
with his fingers caught in the human door
nor the one
who finding it closed would seek out the mineral
door instead
I am not a poet
who feels hindered by the human door
I am not a poet
who uses the human door as a coffee table or
coffin lid