Prompt Night #4 "You think its easy opening doors in January?" (February 2025)

 

You think its easy opening doors in January?

I hope I come to find you’re right.

I slammed my finger in the car door, 

my nail is violet and my cuticle is lavender. 

My finger is purple and the rest of my hand blue. 

January has always been like swallowing a thumb tack.

All I can do is yearn for a mild march,

or even a forgiving February.

But for now my frigid hands fumble with the keys outside my house. 

The doors are locked in January.

I concede on the stoop, my pockets hang out of my pants like two surrender flags. 

You think its easy opening doors in January?

I ask you this in earnest because I want to know. 

I want to learn how to swaddle the rudimentary month

as if I’ve never loved anything or anyone more.

I want to wring January of its joy like the warm damp towel held over my congested nose. 

I want to lavish the thirty-one days like licking honey off my broken finger. 

The tea is bitter but there is sugar at the bottom of the mug.

You think its easy opening doors in January?

As do I.

I simply needed to become a locksmith.