Alone
First there's door sounds
Opening in the distance
then
the whoosh of closure
closed
the silence holds your breath
hushed
anticipates
next
the steps' sound
anticipates
slow sidesteps or tiptoe
just touching on a threat
or a rush at you
even a voice calling a name
any name at all
something
a bell could ring
anything to complete this sequence
satisfied.
Solitaire
It sinks softly into the routine,
goes almost unnoticed, but
after hours and hours of it,
it becomes all art, all music,
all the books.
It becomes design and completion,
the beginning, middle, and end
of everything I’ve ever done,
the sum of civilization, my answer
to the eternal questions,
the furthest outpost of my mind.
Bionote
J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Camel Saloon, Black Mirror, Milo Review, Eye on life Magazine, and Leaves of Ink.
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