Wesley Hill Poet Free verse

Closet with no exit

on the edge of what—
you balance it like a rumor,
bitter-totter, back-n-forth,
a tightrope strung through your ribs.

step careful, suga.
this ain’t a floor, it’s a dare.

a rope in a loop,
loop in a thought,
thought chewing its own tail
like it forgot how to end.

uncertain the length—
baby, that’s the trick.
they never tell you how far it goes,
just whisper keep going
like that’s mercy.

same concept, different color—
revolving doors painted holy,
but they still spin you nowhere.

no exit.
one entrance.
cute, right?

trapped in a loop—
spin, spin suga,
til your name sounds like static
and your shadow gets dizzy trying to keep up.

might as well sit awhile,
kick your heels against the air,
laugh at the damn absurdity of it—
because look at you,
dancing in a cage you can’t even see.

spin the bottle—
you or them?
fate don’t care, it just points.

they aren’t trapped, they said.
you believed that?
sweet thing.

did you see that—
the door half-cracked,
fur brushing your knuckles,
a cold breath slipping out like a secret?

closet humming like a heartbeat.

Narnia, baby.
or madness.

honestly?
same damn door.

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