Commons

The space around pine needles and verbs,
Around an angry moonlit friend
Becomes a mansion.

I swear, this is no conspiracy of cheerfulness,
But I drag the bloody door of myself through
A bigger door again and again.

Burn through me, lemon, ginger.
Sing through me, blasted mosquito.
Inch through me, lover, legion.

This nameless house.
The shoreless common.
There are lockless ways in.

2013
with thanks to TWR for the phrase of the fourth line