October is pregnant with November owls, smells of holidays <br />Wreathing round tables, windows. <br />No stairs. <br /> <br />First stories are ten feet high, with water marks, loose tin, <br />Loose memories of <br />No stairs. <br /> <br />Last year's October, barren. Tears miscarried, dreams in <br />Beer bottles; toys, clothes, food begged by <br />Fire stations. No ice. <br />No stairs. <br /> <br />Christmas of words, Thanksgiving of doctors. <br />Halloween strutted real...mad dancing, skulls worn <br />And uncovered. No treats. <br />No stairs. <br /> <br />Were you proof-reading the Ten commandments, <br />Knowing water never goes to Heaven? <br />On that sunset lake were shadows of someone <br />Stumbling. <br />Too many stairs. <br /> <br />You were always right, but not always on time. <br />You took from Heaven. <br />You would not give. <br />Too many stairs <br />Got in the way.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/katrina-stairs-on-the-water/
