Hannah's Gate Poem by Charlotte Ballard

Hannah felt the pain mostly
In her chest, tight and hard
As if a band had been tightened
Around the edges of all her
Desires and then twisted
Like tourniquet to stop
The hemorrhage of emotions out.

She needed nothing but a glass
Full of sharp edges and twisted
Triangles. Tap three times
And the door opens

No magic door exists,
Of course I do, she says
The bread flour is on my
Dress, and phil has gone
Her mother keeps snapping
Green beans into her lap bowl
Never mind child,
He was not the marrying kind

Hannah reached for the bowl
Her mother’s dark eyes gave
Up trying to tie it all up neat.
Never mind child. Never mind.