behind a closed door

i find the feather on the bathroom floor, behind the door

bone-white, it is soft in my hand

a thing barely there, a whisper.

the night

has left me a gift, this darkness

has light.

has beauty.

there are things that happen when i close my eyes, things breathe.

all day i think of this, the wing, the soft warm breast

pulsing

the wonder of it, the

secret.

— behind a closed door

© Liezel Graham 2020.

Image by Nico Frey

Unsplash

on finding an unexpected thing—the softness thereof, and how it clings to the skin all day.

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