The Door

teal-wooden-panel-door-2773605

The Door

It was only a door
so why did I feel
such foreboding?
Surely I’ve approached
one hundred doors like it
in my lifetime.
The knocker looked heavy
and lions guarded it
with somber faces.
The door looked at me
the mail slot
a tense mouth.
A camera eyed me
blankly remote.
Was someone
already watching?

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #100 for the photo prompt. I usually think of what the picture is and how it makes me feel. In this case, I was thinking about how the door perceived me without human contact.

Black Apple

sliced black apple on a black background with a slice

Black Apple

The exotic woman extended her hand
in it was a black apple
the black apple was a rarity
he had never seen one
the temptation to take it was powerful.
She took out a bejeweled knife
quickly slicing the fruit open
removing one perfect slice.
He winced as he watched the juices run
the whiteness inside the cut was erotic
it caused a strong stirring in his loins.
In an instant, he was upon her
but it wasn’t her body he dominated.
She lay dead as he examined his treasure
already the vulnerable white flesh
bruised and tasting sour.
His melancholy was ripe
as he fled defeated an utter failure.
In his passion and haste, he never found out
where to find the black apple.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

I used some dream meanings I found for black and apple. Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #99 for this image prompt.

Also linking up with dVerse~Poets Pub for Meet the bar and listen to lists. I often do this for my poetry. For this image, I used a list of words from my search of dream meanings for this poem and everything dropped into place. Now I have a lot of reading to catch up with!