'The Weathered Man' & other works by Diego Reyes

Closet

It's a cold place -

Here in this closet.

A place I was born in,

A place where th'family peeks

And where it's best for closed doors.

Where I hide among the chains of

Cashmere, and wool'n'-

Flip flops and shoes.

It's cold here

But it's safe, too.

Sometimes I open the doors

But I'd make sure that-

And with a careful approach-

That daddy's old blue collared button down

Wraps around my neck, like a wire

Words of truth can't escape that way

If the throat is threatened

And as for pants

I toss away my shorts,

And exchange for the pants

That grandpa would wear.

Pants that locked my position in this

Open closet

Fancy shoes are on, too

Fit for a man to marry his wife

Classic shoes that speak

"I, too, can walk a hundred years

or two with you!"

Of course, that's what they say.

The shoes anchored my feet to the floor

The classic American game

Of ball & chain.

The cuffs of my shirt, with every tug I pull

Now slice a wound

For every limp my wrists' turn.

The waistline of my pants

Now tighten

To block the air from comin'

To stop me from movin'.

I could call myself "prisoner"

If I wasn't the one holding the key

To the cuffs on my hands

My neck

And my own aching two feet.

Today's a'changing

Today I say "I'm through"

The open wooden closet

Whose planks are bend'n

crack'n

With my body bend'n

And bleed'n

As I pull away the chains that

Sought the end of my days.

I do not say I'm sorry

For the damage that I might cause

For no jail cell is worse

Than this hearse

Of secrets and shirts.

The closet breaks

And the clothes have fallen.

The hangers don't cut my throat,

My hands free to move afloat,

I'm free to fly.

I'm free.

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