hieger door
My Front Door/Re-evolving
March 31, 2020
by Joanie HF Zosike

The front door of this house
has a barrel bolt lock to frustrate any
and all runners on the lucidity gamut
The bolt makes a frightful giveaway
click that draws attention to itself

               But who is running? All paths
               are on fire today, and we thirst

This is another door, her front door
A bedroom door with a medicine mask
probably from Amazonia—
A door that opens in and out
She sits behind the door masticating
random thoughts to swallow
into her computer, Veritas

               Have you cleaned all surfaces
               Have you checked socially unsociable
               platforms, invisible networks
               (hopefully sanitized), for today’s
               casualty announcements
               Are your hands clean and dry
               Did anyone you know die?

My computer is my voice,
she thinks into Veritas
Her ideas spread like hair extensions
in color, length and stamina,
bringing various truths to cloud recall

               This door is unlocked
               This fishbowl of a house
               has a dearth of doors,
               a space mostly open to
               cautious inhabitants
               When a cough erupts,
               doors close, remain unlocked
               A point of entry is needed
               to share our febrile humanity

This is a revolving door, so many
half-truths and cogitations flying
Veritas crashes, curve goes up

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:  As a near-agoraphobic (I say it jokingly, full well knowing that true agoraphobia is no joke), it’s nothing for me to stay in place for days on end, even in summertime! I am perfectly content to run on my own steam indoors in constant production of something. Or nothing. Or a poem. There’s an entire world to attend to behind my front door. I have never viewed that particular portal, my front door, as an obstacle. But just tell me I can’t go out, I must stay in place for my own good—I’ll rip that door down with tooth and nail. I’m not great with forced confinement. Except that this confinement is for the good of human life on the planet. So I stay put because I know the world can wait for my footsteps as we collectively contemplate this healing-to-be. I look at the front door and I wait. I have learned to be patient.

hieger 1

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Joanie HF Zosike, The Writer’s Hotel Sara Patton 2019 poetry award recipient, appears in Between Ourselves: Letters Between Mothers and Daughters, Women in American Theatre Subliminal Messages, and 11/9: The Fall of American Democracy. Chapbooks include The Character Poems (Chez Chez, 2002) and Bliss, Not Weight, (anthologized in Ides, Silver Birch Press, 2015). Publications include Bastille, Dissident Voice, Heresies, Home Planet News, Jewish Forward, Levure Literraire, Maintenant, Public Illumination Magazine (PIM), and Syndic Literary Journal. She’s written seven full-length plays and four solo theatre works. She received a fellowship from Edward Albee’s The Barn for her play Inside and a Foundation of Jewish Culture grant for …and Then the Heavens Closed (based on Memoirs of Glückel of Hameln), presented at The Jewish Museum in NY. An NYU graduate, she worked with The Living Theatre for 30 years, directs/acts with dada/surrealist company, DADAnewyork, and is co-director of Action Racket Theatre.