Abused stairwell

KATHERINE SANG

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His eyes

                            drenched with regret  were

                                                                                                                                       suspended

autumn leaves dancing in mid

                                                     air

                                                                yet he left with stomping anger.

            Dirty clothes sprawled on the floor

                            as if they were pushed by a sudden force.

                                           Clenched knuckles whitened at the tendons

                                                            enraged shouts clung to the contours

                                                                            waltzing in the limp yellow LED light.

                                                            We retreated,

                                            cautious, trembling backward

                            because the stairs were close and the floors creaked

            like our bones after years of paralysis; we didn’t even know

we were in deep sleep, but each step back flung us down the spiral, beating the stairwell

            with our bodies and apologies.