The Door
This was a commission by two architects who wanted a poem on the frosted glass of their bedroom door. I wrote the poem after a visit to their home, a cup of tea and a conversation. It was designed by one of the architects who is a master of type. In winter light, the sun comes through the letters and the words stretch out on the floor.
It’s as though
we always stood hereside by side
in the middle
of a conversation, evenbefore we had words
—excerpt from “Here We Are”