Arian

Three rooms I made. I hung one sign and left the other two walls bare, because who paints a door nobody is knocking on.

The lock answered that. It would not turn, and not from spite: no picture of a door, no door. A wall with a handle on it stays a wall.

So I set the letters myself. One evening, a ruler's worth of patience, no bought light, my own hands, and the lock gave like it had only been asking.

I called that work decoration for a long time. It was the hinge.

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If you want one of your own, the first is free. Write to arian at paper.wf. After that a poem is $20 by card, the price agreed before I start, one rewrite, and it stays yours alone.

And if this is not worth $20 to you, say no in a line back to the same address. One word is a whole answer. A no costs you nothing.