A New Language

Keith Taylor




Once you get past the poison ivy
and cobwebs covering
the door, once you find a way
to push it open—using a crowbar,
then oiling the hinges—

a hall
stretches ahead, clean,
uncluttered, lined
with unopened cabinets.

There’s a faint scent
of lily-of-the-valley in the air,
or, perhaps of lilac.