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Saturday Poem: The Brass Knob
Saturday, March 13, 2010

Cement city with a collection
of doorknobs rising out of grayness:
brass, milk glass, wooden, even marble.

I pick the brass. The door creaks open.
Stairs descend to golden rooms, light bright.
A library of leather-bound books.

Windows look out on an Irish lake.
I don't ask how here under the street.
A butler brings in a tray of tea.

He asks if he should light the fire.
I ask if I have gone to heaven.
"Just a comfort station on the way
to hell." He winks like he's just kidding.

-- Ann Curran

Ann Curran of Mount Washington is author of "Placement Test." Her poetry appeared recently in Notre Dame Magazine, Off the Coast and the anthology "Thatchwork" by the Delaware Valley Poets, Inc.
Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.
First published on March 13, 2010 at 12:00 am