Writing Prompt #113 and Photo Challenge #69 and Wordle# 207

5 Letters

5 Letters

The door is flesh, nameless,

Scarred to parchment

Tattoos choking out

The panes like gorse

And the grains

Running contrary

Sporadic as the kisses

Of reassembled sweethearts.

The door is a werewolf

Rising with the sclera.

The great white witch

Darkly persuasive

Weaves her spells

Into the courier directly,

An efficient brand,

A cowl of blades

Shimmering but deadly.

The door is a carnival

Contrived of lanterns

And balls of rain heavy

As the glass they frame.

Blind as a doll

She hunts by ear

Poised like a scorpion

Behind the resurrection.

The door stands alone

Without the bother of insertion

The heartbreak of a Ferris wheel

Unoccupied but toiling ceaselessly

Through a patina sky

As if repetition could recall

The miracle of fullness.