To Carry, as One Carries the Impossible in a Dream

~ after Rodin

"It was discovered the best way to combat
Sadness was to make your sadness a door."
                                                      (Terrance Hayes)


Evenings are doors. And mornings.
They ping at the hinges like struck
metal, they grate at the touch
as if from exhaustion.  Leaning 
toward the first solid column of light, 
you sense the colder undercurrent.
You could press yourself deeper
into stone. You could hunch over 
some more, like the caryatids.
They've been told this is noble
or beautiful: how they carry the base
and level for the plinth, for the pitch 
of the roof. No one asks of the heart
inside how it fills or empties in this role.