Poem

Hinge

All that weight
            hangs on a piece

of metal, flush,
            matter-of-factly

against the jamb
            of a bedroom

door. Once, there
            was a birth,

later a death,
            between clamor:

someone opens
            a pair of legs

and makes love,
            someone closes

a fist and fights
            their whole life;

all pending
            on a slender pin,

a backbone,
            solemn, almost

motherly quiet,
            then cries out.