To Penetrate That Room

To penetrate that room is my desire,
The extreme attic of the mind, that lies
Just beyond the last bend in the corridor.
Writing I do it. Phrases, poems are keys
Loving’s another way (but not so sure).
A fire’s in there, I think, there’s truth at last
Deep in a lumber chest. Sometimes I’m near,
But draughts puff out the matches, and I’m lost.
Sometimes I’m lucky, find a key to turn,
Open an inch or two – but always then
A bell rings, someone calls, or cries of ‘fire’
Arrest my hand when nothing’s known or seen,
And running down the stairs again I mourn.

- John Lehmann