Wase

The drawer meets you halfway,
sailing from its plane into your belly.
Forwardly, the door meets you halfway.
It could have known you were coming. I knew. I met you halfway. Your hands were pouring.
Did it tell you? I put the door half open.
I set the drawer on a loose rail. The walls following. You never got all the way to it.
I never meant to slow your going, with my greeting. You got halfway.