What Might Touch?

Once people have judged you without knowing the full story their minds are made up and closed. One gets the cold shoulder.


Eintritt verboten,

No way in

Nothing penetrates here

My jury watches

Black-eyed, afar


All those gasps

A jar full of tut-tut-tuts

Sold by the quarter

In paper bags

For a shilling


What to do with him?

No place on the shelf

Not here, with us

Say nothing and

Soon It vanishes


No tracing left

No arching right

Nor charcoal shadow

To worry a page

At the sunset


The deafening silence

Permeates, through

No atmospheric razor

Might pare this

To the very quick


No door to the heart

Not even a feather

Can tickle us there

Nor icicle thrust

To pierce


What might

Might touch

Or even caress

And climb

those icy stairs?