It's just an image at the moment of a door. It's closed, it has the word, "KNOCK" deeply etched into it's surface, and it is surrounded on every side by a beautiful day. I was struck by this, when I first saw it, because you can walk all the way round the door and still be where you are. No walls, no ceilings, just a door in it's frame, standing there, waiting. On the top of a hill. Say, Robinswood Hill.
Now you can see what a cheat I am. As a poet I shouldn't have used the turgid and lengthy convention of prose to show you the door. You may assume that I did because a description of the door matters, but not to the poem. Here goes:
Not sure about this.
This is seriously weird. I know
You know me, and the temptation to
Is going to be irresistable.
But first, I want to make something clear.
I am naked.
I am not ashamed.
I notice the serpent's keeping his distance:
"Don't mess with me mate,
I've got your number."
No, God, Not You!
I know nothing of YOU
If it's not love and all those things
Here goes ...