Corners

Corners, where two edges find each other

are a meeting place where boundaries,

otherwise separate,

intersect, merge, change each other’s course

and then dead end.

Corners set the boundaries that edges can only hope to do.

You can follow a wall with your fingers.

Walls are not immune to touching.

But, when you touch a corner

it is hard to you, resists you, is not seduced by you.

Edges passively go with the flow of your hand

but, corners say, “halt.

None shall pass.

Not even you.”

And the corner is not unforgiving.

It creates a pocket for you to slip into

if you need it,

if you can no longer keep running your hand

along the same yellow wallpaper.

That pocket is like your mother’s womb:

Surrounded by only two walls

yet providing the shelter of a darkness

that resists even the light of an open door.