
Saeed Jones Reads Deborah Digges
The New Yorker: Poetry
The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart
The wind blows through the doors of my heart by Deborah Diggs. It scatters sheet music that climbs like waves from the piano free of the keys. From the mantel smashes birds nests, teacups full of stars as the wind winds round. To save them, I've thrown flowers to fields so that someone would pick them up and know where they came from.
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