First, you unscrew
the faceplate and pry out
the broken door **** assembly,

then you remove
the smoothly machined,
cast iron latch bolt: ‘1914’

stamped on the tongue;
its torso forks
into bow legs.

Twist a paperclip
around its waist
to make it

a crutch
that will drag ends of thread across the floor,
until,

bolt-headed,
it senselessly stands
behind the door.

O my friend,
how long before
you hang?