The Staircase

the spiral stairs banister is rusty
spiders are hidden in the corners
pigeons hustle and bustle can be heard in the attic
the old plaster smelling like sour cabbage
loses stripe after stripe absorbing autumn mist
through round and small windows

the old man fell asleep early
he played all day long with lotto pieces
counting and shuffling them many times
now he cannot make the difference
between a white and a red poppy on the lapel

the old woman forgot the rum essence flavor
she baked pancakes putting inside a drop of acetone
filling them with one year old quince jam
placing everything on a nickel silver plate
starting to knit again a large brim hat
adorned with strawberries and cornflowers

their grandsons came shaking the staircase
from its foundations
there was much more sunlight at every window
the children whistling in clay flutes
threw away the pancakes to the dog
sharing between them the lotto pieces
and the jam left in the jar

many colored yarn balls rolled downstairs
until they reached the first floor

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Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

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