The Hole

There’s a little hole in the kitchen curtain

There’s a little hole in the curtain — an observation
There are two little holes on the door
There are holes in the sockets randomly no pattern
There’s a hole on the wall that was left from the watercolour painting that faded

Water won’t outlive everything like it should
Even in the water there are holes
The bubbles we live in

We live in little holes
We’re full of holes we try to cover
With clothes, with plugs that sometimes won’t fit

I’ve been seeing a lot of holes lately — what does that mean when juxtaposed to the the little
holes in my head 

One hole is filled with an eye
The other is the mouth — it matters most when open and wordless

There’s is a hole in the window when I open it
It’s an open book that could lead me anywhere but I just stay still until it’s over

I shut my mouth and eyes and pray and all the holes disappear 

But it’s late, I’m tired and I yawn, my open
mouth against my control 
and there are insects everywhere looking for a hole to break into

In the frame of time of an involuntary open mouth, I’m just a hole
Being observed and thoughts of fixing it

Thank you for reading.

Love,

Adora