Poetry

On Latch

They went daily,
the latch flying on behind them.
A moment's assurance
for their uncertainty.
They were uninvolved,
but tied in knots.
A pair of shoes — odd —
tumbling over each other.
There goes the latch
and out they come,
a little crooked,
smelling of confusion.
There's nothing
to consider now.
We'll talk about it later.

Aidan Jenner