Friday 22 November 2013

#91 - Most Likely A Staircase

Steps wind down into the darkness like a nautilus shell,
slathered in grease. We descend in pairs,
confident that the answers we seek
lie somewhere deep
at the helixing base.

We grip the rail for balance; we grip each other.
Nothing helps. We fall, and fall again.
Is this the lesson? we ask each other,
first joking.
We get more bruised, more tallowy,
the light grows dim.
The stairs wind on.

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