NaPoWriMo #28

Keys

keys hang from the hooked circle on the wall
gnarled and blackened
with the voluptuous kisses of time
no doors open now at their touch
no secrets exposed
only the magic of the unknown

keys that once gleamed in torchlight
once glittered in the summery sun
at the hip of a mistress of the house
turning the garden   seeing
that the work is done

or keys that sucked the light
from wall sconces nearly too high
impervious to screams jailed
and beckoning
jangling with taunting precision
against the guardmaster’s belt
one hand half in his pants
the other itching for a whip

or keys that hid all the secrets
until she got hold of them
she opened them up
all the nasty, rotting doors
or sweet-smelling cedar trunks
and salt-soaked treasure chests
she opened them up
and took what she could
inside.

© 2015 by Robin A. Sams

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