The Opening, Trevor Joyce

You are reading this book
On the table are letters a mirror some flowers
from which a leaf falls down
Behind is a wall in which there is no door
but you have opened it
and gone through

You hear these words
Your shadow moves across some photographs a leaf the threshold
which is badly worn
Beneath the floor in which there is no chasm
yet you have stumbled
and dropped through

I have shut the book
and there is silence here
Now by the window
I look to the night
which has begun to fall
which will not be long now

~Trevor Joyce