Next Doorness
by Odin Roark

It has not a front porch to sit upon,
Nor a yard of lawn and flowers to upkeep.
Not even a house to keep dark at night,
An upper window for peeking.

Nevertheless…

We suspect this enigmatic visage
Has its own sagacious means to peek at us
From behind closed curtains we cannot see,
An absence amidst our presence,
Boasting darkness
To cast its stealth-like shadow.

Such invisible next-doorness
Never asks for a cup of sugar,
But takes without asking,
Its invisible shroud
Forever with us,
Invited or not.

Such is not the omniscient God,
But our very own man-made proselytes,
The ever-present clandestine eyes
Of duplicitous protectorates,
The ubiquitous satellites.