by AD NOLAN

AD Nolan, Still Life, digital photograph, 2026. Courtesy of the artist.

The Things I Would Do

If You Walked

Through That Door

AD NOLAN | JuLY 2026 | Issue 53

Poetry

I'd put your entire body in my mouth. Not all at once, but
a slow devouring. I'd start with the edges, and I wouldn't
be gentle because if you walked through that door I'd know
you'd found a way to open a portal, the sci-fi glow just fading
in the forest behind you, the barred owl a silent flyaway,
the night frogs all crescendo. I wouldn't be gentle when
you walked through the door because if you walked through
that door I would know we would have time, finally, we would
have time to go slow and more, we could say things like
Have you ever? Me neither. Let's never together. And I'd
go down on all fours just to hear you take some god's name in
vain, desire a wet nimbus, the air gone all ozone. If you
walked through that door I would fuck you on the floor
I would fuck you in the window seat I would fuck you
on the stairs and in the bed and on the table and up against
the wall and you could have me any way you like, there is
nothing I would say no to. I have been sitting here so long,
mouth open like a wish, if wanting was a summoning
you'd have already boarded a plane, shirt half buttoned,
charging cord dangling from your bag, breath askew.
Sir! they'd say We almost left without you as they tuck
up their wheels and grab for the sky. You should know
that any door I open for the rest of my life this side of the ocean
or otherwise, I will be half hoping to see your face
smiling at me all stupid with surprise. I am not an idiot.
I know our chances are null to impossible. But I will still
take them. I will still take you. Twenty. Fifty. Eighty. Whenever.
Time is just a ghost story.
Someday there will be a door
and you will walk through it.
And we will begin.

AD Nolan is a poet based in Europe.