Antonia Clark

Paraclausithyron is a motif in Greek, Roman, and troubadour poetry. It generally means a lament beside a door, usually that of a lover who wants to be admitted.

I am the pilgrim knocking. Your door is closed to me.
After mountains, after rivers, the last border closed to me.

No access, entrance, portal, hatch. No place
for a password. The question never posed to me.

Your lock hums dumbly. Takes umbrage at my cry.
Tumblers unturning. The bounds imposed to me.

Mouth of your house. Gateway to your heart. I wait.
I am the wind, you are everything opposed to me.

Upon your threshold, Futility opens her robes, her arms.
Withered hag, her skin and bones exposed to me.

What use the priceless flower, this gentle art? 
Rhymes fail for reasons undisclosed to me.


ANTONIA CLARK works as a medical writer and editor. She has taught poetry and fiction writing and is co-administrator of an online poetry forum, The Waters. She is the author of a chapbook, Smoke and Mirrors (Finishing Line Press, 2013), and the full-length poetry collection, Chameleon Moon (David Robert Books, 2014). Her poems and short stories have appeared in numerous print and electronic journals, including Anderbo, The Cortland Review, Eclectica, The Missouri Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Rattle, and Softblow. She loves French picnics and plays French café music on a sparkly purple accordion.