"Vaulted," A Poetry Post

A woman's heart is
the world's most mysterious
bank vault,
protected by an outer steel door,
motion detection and on-sight security,
poison darts and projectiles,
city-grid alarms.

Surrounded by
cement walls and
dug down
deep into its earth,
resisting entry
from
alternative pathways.

Any man
must be wise
with eyes wide open
to lay his hands
on the 5-spoke handle,
since
he will need to
locate the place,
gain access to the outer room,
negotiate the preliminaries,
open a deposit account,
stock a safe deposit box,
get employed within the system,
be trusted with the codes and
given vault keys.

Any man
must be wise
with eyes wide open
since
she
may still misread,
may still impale you with the
sharp memories
of her past,
may still
mistakenly
dump your account
after a mistaken overdraft,
may still
call the authorities
after you've
entered the right security pin.

And then,
that man...
God bless him...
might have to begin again.

But her heart,
so vaulted,
can be opened,
can be accessed,
can be relaxed,
can be approached,
can be impressed upon
by your warm imprint,
can be softened.

With your efforts,
a great master key
can be forged,
one that
satisfies
all
lock-down
stipulations.

And,
key in hand,
the diligent man
can open the front door,
walk through the lobby,
shake hands,
present his love...
the remnants of a miracle...
and perform wonders
for all to see.

And all she will hear
and feel
is the great lock's
click.

-T. D. James-Moss