Poetry

Emily Greenwood

It’s cold at night

But only when we don’t fight

I slammed the door

I have many times before

Domesticated

It’s complicated

No one I speak to knows

How my bedroom door bangs when the wind blows

No lock only a piece of paper

Between the world and my escape

The government refuses to fix my door

We pay them rent do they need anything more

Our house is owned by the Australian government

But they have no concern

Half my door is broken

But I’m not allowed to be outspoken

I’m fucking pissed off

That my door can’t be closed off

I’m treated like a vandal

Because I have a bedroom door without a handle