I am the stairs.
Up, down, —years.
Along the banister-prison –
creaking-floorboards, bones.
Bury them in the silence they deserve.
An empty-window-world above, forever,
taunting a way out!
Recollects we were alive:
Struggling momentous-steps
…..to nowhere.
An arbitrary shadow
against impenetrable wall
serves our memory.
Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2018 All Rights Reserved
