ART

“Denouement”

by Michael Chowning

A hand at the threshold. A hand beyond. 

Logic, often, fails to capture the nature of time.

Picture a boy. Blink. Picture a man. 

His weight the distance between the beginning

And the end. Tragedy resting its weight

On every footstep nearing him 

To goodbye. The years piled on

His back until somebody said release- the world

Beyond the window nothing but foreign,

Nothing avoidable. It’s glowing green.

It’s glowing red. It’s on fire. The colors

Not the same to everyone. Tomorrow can rest

In the palm of your hand if only

You learn the art of belief. If only you

Learn to see its true size. 

Perspective being a trick of time. In seconds,

He will see the world that feigned perspective 

And yet the house will refuse to change. 

Emptiness will knock at the door 

And yet the house will refuse to change. 

One day, while wandering the woods,

The house will appear, lit aflame. 

This means you’re remembering, even

If you cannot. But now, the moment of 

Misbelief. Stranded in limbo. The door is open.

The house is shrinking to your size. 

Soon, you will be untraceable, and yet,

In terms of the night sky- unchanged. 

A house can be too small for you

And yet still the right size. Your body

Still glows yellow when the seasons turn.

The door is still open. Pull on your 

New boots and feel the soles transition-

Feel the soul cleaving at your closed mouth.

Still, the door is open. 

Look closely. No need for contemplation, for worry-

It’s all green out there,

Dear. Just beyond the door, it’s all green.