Sonnet from “Essay on Openings”

For Diane, For Marie 

It happens when consolidating my written

history. I hew the paper tower. Out slips

the printed image of a cave, an opening

in the earth as seen from the inside. Twin pillars 

mark the entrance to deeper chambers, and further,

the gap our subject had to pass through, crawling, some

unfamiliar posture, to witness the light,

at this angle, spilling forth from where one once was. 

An open invitation. An open question. 

Prise open. Open eyes. Heart. Mind. Mind as a

sentence. Note the passages behind our subject 

unrepresented in this image, the turning 

one must concede before descending into that 

frightful, warm, translucent—yes—open dark.