Regular readers on this site will have become unused, in these past few weeks, to the sound of constantly passing traffic behind recordings made from the poet’s tiny gypsy cart ~ but she is hailing you from the midst of an in-town errand run today, so we feature them, once, again.

*****

Recorded Reading (2:37): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/jeykuitn6bfcyzs965n9n/The-Fourth-Door.mp3?rlkey=ipizmba0b3s4gup7melwd126s&dl=0

*****

The Fourth Door

Whilst I yet through childhood go
I watched a television show
Its prizes one by one reveal
By name of “Let’s Make a Deal”

If you guessed correctly, then
You got to guess, and guess again ~
If you extra accurate were
You got to choose which you’d prefer

Of three huge doors, at very last,
There arrayed before you be
Behind which many treasures massed:
“Door A,” “Door B,” “Door C”

Protected by one shielding door
Some gag prize waits to disappoint
The other two hide ~ one, much more,
And one, a little. Asked to point

Toward the one which you request,
You sweat, you squirm, you think it through
And strain to do your very best
So kismut will be good to you…

Perhaps, presented with a choice
To which its offerers now give
Remarkably similar voice
(Which happens, sometimes, as we live)

My reflex action, first response,
Instinctive move has always been
To pause an habitual nonce,
Explore the space those doors between

It has been my experience ~
To offer a redeeming thought
In this strange practice’s defence ~
That by such pause is often brought

The vision of another door
Betwixt those I’m presented by
Two others, sometimes ~ sometimes more ~
Unseen by a too-focused eye

Upon the lights, and ear the bells,
Of the official choices which
To you th’announcer hearty tells ~
None which are really what you wish

(And which the happy audience,
Immersed in the vicarious
Heady, thrilling experience
Acquiring so much of the lustrous

And lauded wealth don’t know:
Unless you can pay half in tax,
Never home with you will go ~
Those are the real-life facts)

The fourth door is the one I choose
Which human service lies behind
Nor rusty objects I may lose:
I make the choice of — being kind

*****

This poet presently lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level.

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