Cellar Doors
When closed one lay atop the other
Oh like so many things like the hands
Of a girl at Mass a girl
Who has just ceased believing
Or like the two cards
The blackjack dealer deals you
Or the two books the poet
Who died too young wrote
On display at the memorial reading
One door seemed to know
More than the other
Like the hand the girl uses
To cross herself with when she rises
To go or the card the dealer uses
To flip the other card over
To reveal that you’ve lost again
Or the book the poet started writing
After she learned she was dying
That everyone says
You should read first