I stopped in a small town in South Carolina, and found it mostly empty (the only open business there being a family-run thrift store). Standing in the wreckage of an old tire shop, looking out onto the street, I kept thinking of that phrase “When one door closes… another opens.” I always kind-of hated that phrase, because it seems like it’s only good in hindsight, not when you’re actually grieving the loss of something, feeling like you really may have closed your only door. When the stores close one by one, when the local tire shop is torn apart, when the town barely has anyone left, what or where is that next door? “When one door’s glass has been broken and its wood is starting to rot–abandoned for so long a tree grew through it… there surely is another Entrance (however ominous) lined up just for you.”Caycey Pound
Caycey Pound (@briefcayc on Twitter and everywhere else) is a poet from South Carolina with a B.A. in English from College of Charleston (‘20). She spends most of her time with family, her super-wonderful pug, and her plants. You can find her poetry in Magpie Literary Journal.
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