Staircase at Fifteen

staircase

Staircase at Fifteen

Ascending, her centrifugal
influence captures me

and I follow,
breathless,
witless, wordless,

despite all longing
and shared

discretions, despite
the thundering
pulse
and the incessant
demand to act
or run.

She pauses, looks
down, sees
nothing.

Suddenly freed,
spinning off
and slowing down,
shrinking,

far below, on equal
footing but so
apart,

never to meet
in truth, unable
to define direction or

motive, I remain
fixed as she moves
higher, far away, close

but up,
always up.

planetarium

18 thoughts on “Staircase at Fifteen

  1. My God, can poetry actually be this good!? The last time I got this excited over writing it was the first time I read Kinkakuji by Mishima…while sitting on a bench right across the pond from the actual temple! ę›øćč¾¼ćæć®ćƒžć‚¹ć‚æćƒ¼ļ¼

    Liked by 2 people

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