BUCKINGHAM DOOR
Door
by Charis Buckingham

It haunts my dreams.
Hazy light floods through frosted glass,
Shatters into rainbows
That spill across the floor.
The colours glow
Like embers, and fade
As clouds capture the sun
Like I’ve been captured.
Held hostage.

Protected.

I’m trapped in safety,
Sealed from the world
By wood, frosted glass,
A lock that I could turn
But shouldn’t operate.
It’s my protector
And I’m grateful.
Should be grateful.

There are no colours now,
Only brown
And grey
And dark
Locked inside,
With me.

It haunts my dreams.
Sometimes,
I wake up screaming.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I don’t usually write poetry, but in these times I feel it’s important to explore new muscles creatively and to support other endeavours. This particular project spoke to me given the self-isolation and quarantine that many of us are experiencing. This poem features the door at my parents’ house (it has a small panel of stained glass in the centre) but explores my feelings towards the restrictions so many of us are under in these times.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Charis Buckingham is an MA Creative Writing graduate who teaches ESL and writes novels (plural) in her spare time. She lives near Leicester, England, with her dog, and although she struggles to think small, she has recently started a blog. She’s in the process of querying her first novel. Visit her on Twitter and Instagram.