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  • Category: Community Poetry
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The Door

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I pull my suitcase into the room and kick the door closed with my foot.

I hurl the bag onto the bench and unzip.

Piling pieces of clothing into a sliding drawer,

I lay a shirt and pants on the bed and pull my shirt up over my head.

The door swings open and I jump.

 

“Get out!” I scream, covering my chest with the shirt balled up in my hands.

The stranger turns and walks back into the hallway.

I slam the door shut behind him, slide down the back of the door

and shoot my arm up to lock it,

But I can’t.

There is no lock on the door.

The door opens slightly, smacking my spinal cord,

then more forcefully, slamming me into the side wall.

“What the fuck??”

A man enters and stands in front of me, staring at me in my bra and jeans.

I draw my arms over my chest.

He reaches for my arms and I kick his hands away.

He turns and leaves the room.

I slam the door shut behind him and try to lock it,

But I can’t.

What is wrong with this door?

I pull it open to see the other side

And realize the lock is on the outside.

I run across the room and pick up the phone.

“Hello, front desk. How can I help you?”

“I need you to send someone up here and fix this door. Someone put it on backwards and people keep trying to get in!”

“Okay ma’am I need you to calm down. The door is not on backwards.”

“Yes it is! The lock is on the outside of the door and I can’t keep people out!”

The man begins laughing hysterically.

Someone begins pounding on the door.

I brace myself, but the door doesn’t open.

The pounding stops.

I move closer to it.

It is different

I try to lock it

And this time I can.

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